


High as Hope

by Kriegsandharris



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-06-24 11:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 75,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kriegsandharris/pseuds/Kriegsandharris
Summary: Florence Welch is at the top of her career and in the middle of her biggest tour yet when a pink line on a stick threatens to derail it all. Through the power of sisterhood and friendship, she manages her way through a journey of self-forgiveness, growth, and love.Set in the present.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wooooah it has been a minute since I've posted anything on here. This started out as a quick one shot that I scribbled down into a google doc after having a very odd dream in which I went to a Florence concert and she walked out completely pregnant. It was the most realistic and bizarre dream and I just couldn't shake it. After days of being stuck thinking about it, it transformed into this mess of a fic. It is 90% done but I am completely open to suggestions. 
> 
> I'm planning on posting the first three chapters now and then uploading at least once a week. I hope you enjoy!

“Goodnight!” Florence half-heartedly screams from her mic to the crowd before slowly half jogging half stumbling off the stage to puke. Most nights, her brief farewell was somewhat of a joke before coming out two minutes later for an encore, but tonight she meant it.

Rob and Isa make eye contact as they continue playing the closing lines of the song and they know that they’re done. Florence had an unusually bad night, sticking with her lower register by taking the high notes of her parts down an octave. She was out of breath and somehow looked even paler than she normally does. By the end of the night, a thick sheen of sweat covered her whole body even in the cool outdoor venue. She didn’t speak between songs, and the entire show she looked like she was on the verge of crying.

They wrap up the song, and quickly file off of the stage as the lights go out. “Flo?” Rob calls out as soon as he enters the small white hall behind the venue. He opens the girls’ dressing room door and she is nowhere to be found. He looks behind him at Isa with a confused look on his face. Isa just shrugs her shoulders. Beyond the walls, they can still hear the crowd cheering, begging for a few more songs.

“I need to pack up some things from the room,” Isa shouts as Rob jogs towards the door to the car lot. Rob doesn’t turn around and just gives Isa a thumbs up as he pushes the heavy exit door forward and heads to the bus. It is getting dark and the air is cool as his nerves begin to rise.

He keys in the pin on the bus door, and it swings open. He waltzes up the steps, and pushes a button for the door to close as he wanders further into the bus. “Flo?”

And then he hears the unmistakable sound of sick, followed by sobs and sniffling. He walks across the hardwood floors and swings open the bathroom door to find Florence curled up against the wall, still in her flowy green Gucci dress, covered in vomit. Her eyes are bloodshot and her hair is soaked in sweat. She slowly looks up at him as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Oh Florence,” Rob says quietly almost like a concerned parent, “what the fuck happened?” Florence begins to open her mouth to explain before she violently launches herself back towards the toilet.

Rob bends down and gently rubs her back as he holds back her long hair. He thinks to himself about how the last time he did this was her 25th birthday party when she just about drowned herself in dirty martinis. That night, he tucked a crying Florence into bed and sat with her until she fell asleep. He has a strange feeling that this is about to be an encore performance.

When she is finished, Florence slumps back to the wall with a groan. Rob keeps a hand on her back and feels just how hot and sweaty her entire body is.

“Flo, I’m going to go see if I can find medics or something. You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she replies aggressively, suddenly perking up at the threat of being seen by anyone else in her current state. “I just need a moment.”

“No, you’re _not._ For the past two hours I watched you on that stage about to pass out. I’m going to go find someone,” he says, pushing himself up from his kneeling position.

“NO,” Florence says wildly, grabbing onto Rob’s wrist. He looks down to find Florence staring him down with a worried look on her face. Tears threaten to fall from her swollen eyes. He softens up as he becomes worried for his friend.  
Rob takes a seat next to Florence just outside of the threshold of the tiny bus bathroom. “Flo,” he says gently, “you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. Did something happen out there? Were you drinking? Are you sick? You can’t just expect me to sit here and—”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Rob looks at her softly as she takes a deep breath while nervously biting the side of her cheek. She looks to the side, and to the ceiling, and anywhere but Rob’s face. She fidgets with a button on the sleeve of her dress, anxiously waiting for a reply.

Rob can’t think of anything to say, other than “Why do you think that?”

Florence buries her face into her knees. “I haven’t gotten my period since January, and I was just too busy to even realize…” she trails off.

Rob’s head begins spinning as he realizes that it is now late March, and that they have a full spring and summer tour ahead of them.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing some—”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, okay,” Rob says, taking her hand and gently rubbing his thumb across it. Florence gives into his comforting touch and leans over to rest her head on his shoulder. They sit for a moment before Florence speaks again.

“And that aside, I’m honestly just having a shit time. This isn’t fun anymore, I’m sure you have started to feel that too. I’m tired. I want to go home. I want to sleep. And I just want to stop thinking about what a complete shit-show my life is.”

“Your life is not a shit-show, Flo,” Rob offers. He wraps his arm tighter around Florence, and she finally seems to calm down, even if only a little bit. “Why don’t I go grab you some clothes and then you can lay down for a bit, yeah?”

Florence nods her head, and Rob gets up to retrieve her some pyjama shorts and a t-shirt. He helps her out of the somewhat trashed gown, and leaves her to change while he tries to salvage the thin green fabric in the kitchen sink. When he returns to the back of the bus, Florence is already in her top bunk, turned away from the hall. Rob steps up the ladder to peak his head into the curtain.

“You know I love you no matter what, right?”

Florence nods her head silently, her shiny red hair moving with the motion.

“Do you want me to get Isa?”

  
Florence shrugs her shoulders up to her ears, unsure of how she could even face her friend who she’s nearly ignored for the last few months, and then goes back to her lifeless state.

“Alright, well, I’ll be back in a bit then.”


	2. Chapter 2

“How is she?” Isa asks while taking a bite of one of the sandwiches that were delivered for dinner before they get back on the road. There is chatter abound as media interviews some of the band in one of the large common areas of the venue. Music plays over speakers and there is a joyous energy in the room that feels wrong without Florence’s presence. Rob nervously pushes his hair back.  
“Ehm, she’s… not great. She was throwing up. When I left she was back in bed.”

“Oh god, poor thing,” Isa replies, continuing to eat her sandwich. She puts her plate down before looking Rob in the eye. “Do you think she has a virus or something? Maybe the seafood we had last night?”

Rob leans in towards Isa. “Want to go pack up the dressing room?”

“I already d—” Isa tries to get out before Rob grabs her hand and leads her out of the room.

They cross the hallway and head into the much smaller, much dingier room. “What was that about?” Isa asks indignantly.

Rob shuts his eyes and bites his lip before blurting out, “Iz, she thinks she’s pregnant.” Isa’s heart sinks, and she too squeezes her eyes shut before bringing a hand to her forehead. A pregnancy scare in the middle of a tour is nightmare material, and she can’t imagine how her closest friend, _who swore off relationships for the indefinite future_ , is feeling right now. She stumbles back onto the couch of the dressing room that has probably sat there for longer than she has been alive.

“What? With who? When would this even’ve happened?”

“We had a whole month off. And you know we don’t keep up tabs on each other like we used to.”

Isa exhales deeply and buries her face in her hands before beginning to shake her head. “Okay, alright, well, she’s got options. She’ll be okay. She just needs to calm down, this will all be alright. Stuff like this happens all the time...”

Isa continues to rationalize things out loud as Rob leans against the cement wall, arms crossed and looking up towards the overpowering fluorescent lights.

Getting tired of her rambling, he cuts her off mid sentence. “You should really go talk with her. She’s not in a good place. Or just sit with her. She needs someone Iz, and you’re the best for the job.” He walks over and sits down next to Isa, just barely not touching. They sit in silence for a few moments before Rob half whispers, “I think she misses you. The way you two used to be.”

Isa leans her head back as guilt begins to overwhelm her. In her time off—and even during her time on tour—she had put her head down, working her ass off with about fifteen-million side projects that she was going to get very little credit for, in the hopes of finding someone who would recognize her talent as a producer. She loved Florence, and she loved touring and the band, but somewhere along the line it had all become a bit unfulfilling, especially as she came to the hard realization that Flo, at least as an artist, would fare just fine without her. And all of that had indirectly taken quite a toll on their friendship. It was a constant cycle of Isa unconsciously distancing herself from Florence, as to soften the blow for when she would inevitably leave in a few years time, and Florence distancing herself from Isa, allowing her friend to work so she could find what she so desperately craved in life. Neither of them was at fault, really, they were only trying to protect the other, but regardless, the protection became more of a tall barrier.

A tear and a small gasp escape from Isa, and Rob snaps out of his somber state. He had been a first-hand witness to the gradual deterioration of Isa and Florence’s relationship, one which was once so strong he had to question if it was purely platonic almost daily. He realizes that this secret revelation hit Isa hard. She used to always be the first to know when Flo was hurting. “Hey, hey,” he says gently, sitting up to wipe the tear from his friend’s cheek. Isa sits up at his touch, and he quickly embraces her, stroking the long blonde hair on the back of her head gently as she begins to full-on cry. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Flo… she’s going to be okay. Alright? Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”

Isa take a few more deep breaths before pulling away from Rob. By now her mascara is beyond the point of salvation, and her cheeks tremble like they did when she lied as a kid.

“I’m thinking about how I worshiped a stupid keyboard more than my best friend to the point where I didn’t even think to ask her how she’s been for the last six months.”

—

Isa collects herself and her things and makes a quiet, solo journey back to the bus. She shoves her and Florence’s wardrobe into one of the storage containers below, and then makes her way up the stairs and immediately back towards the bunks.

“Flo? Florence?” She gets no reply. Isa sighs and starts to climb up the ladder. Her heart pounds in her chest, unsure of what she would find or the words she would say. Everything was an unknown, and suddenly it felt like she was back in 2008 when she witnessed Flo’s first full-scale anxiety attack and had completely froze, letting her friend suffer alone instead of holding her like she later learned to do.

Isa takes a final breath before opening the curtain slightly, like she is about to dive underwater and doesn’t know when she’ll return to the surface. “Hey babe,” she says in a solemn whisper, ducking her head to slide in. Florence is turned towards the wall on the far side of the small bed, laying on top of her white blanket with her long hair splayed behind her. She shakes and no sound escapes her lips as she holds her breath, silently sobbing into the wall. Isa moves herself in further, and tucks herself into Florence’s back. She thinks about how she can’t even remember the last time they laid like this. Isa strokes her overgrown red tresses just as she used to every night on tour all those years ago; with that, Florence reaches her breaking point, and all of her emotions bubble to the outermost surface of her being.

Florence turns her body and reaches for Isa, tucking her head below Isa’s chin as violent cries let themselves loose. Isa protectively craddes Florence’s head, continuing to smooth her hands down her hair. She doesn’t say a word, only rocking the two of them back and forth as the rest of the crew piles themselves onto the bus. She says a silent prayer that Rob let everyone else know that Florence wasn’t in a good place, and that she remembered to shut the door to the bunks.

“Shh, you’re okay. I got you. You’re going to be okay,” Isa says as she gently runs her fingers over Florence’s arms. Florence continues to let out quiet sobs, her tears making a stain on the blue t-shirt Isa had changed into after the show. Isa’s heart pounds again as the bus lurches forward, and they begin the eight hour ride to Barcelona.

—

Florence wakes in the middle of the night with a start, hitting an unsuspecting Isabella with her head in the process.

“Fuck,” Isa whispers, her fingers flying to her now slightly bloody lip.

Florence moans, burying her head into her duvet that Isa had slid over herself. “Sorry,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to pretend that nothing is real.

“You’re fine hun,” Isa says in a sigh, reassuringly placing her hand over Florence’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Florence looks up from her awkward position, her head on Isa’s lap with her torso and legs awkwardly twisted to the side. Her sad green eyes meet Isa’s and that is enough to answer the question. The smallest of fake smiles crosses her face briefly before she bites her lip. “I don’t know.”

Florence feels like she is in a surreal state, laying on top of Isa on a tour bus in the middle of nowhere in France with (potentially) a tiny human taking over her body with each passing second. Everything seems so familiar to the days where she and Isa would fly out to wherever the next gig was and share a hotel bed the night before, and yet everything is completely different. They are on a very expensive tour bus, with young musicians who are the best at their craft, and now there are maybe 20 or 30 people depending on them to bring in money so that they can provide for their families. The parties have been replaced by quiet nights at nice restaurants, telling their young new friends about the wild nights they had when they were once that age. They are older, sober, and far more mature than the two girls they left behind years ago.

And most surreal part of all is that Florence hasn’t talked— _really talked_ —to Isa for the better part of the year. Time flew by, and seemingly overnight they naturally grew apart, like adults do. Like the adults they swore they would never become.

Now here they were, Florence having a pregnancy scare in the middle of a complete and utter mental breakdown because of a random hookup that Isa didn’t hear about because she was too busy producing god-knows-where with god-knows-who. Florence would never for a moment think of holding it against her, but it did hurt a little that their power of speechless communication built by hours upon hours of being in the same room for years at a time was gone.

Florence waits for Isa to say something, _anything_ , but is met with silence. She stares into the small light illuminating the cramped, dark space of the bunk, counting to see how long it would take to burn a little neon spot into her vision. “I know Rob told you everything,” she offers, hoping it would allow Isa to open up.

The truth is she didn’t _really_ know how much Rob had told Isa, only how the dynamic of the three of them works. _Used to work_. She knows that no secrets are held between the three of them, that she was the first to know when Isa heard him hooking up with Katy Perry at Coachella all those years ago, and that she immediately ran to find Rob when Isa was drunkenly calling her ex. The three of them grew up together, through the twenty-something year old awkwardness, ugliness, and sometimes down right embarrassment.

Isa clicks her tongue. “Yeah, yeah. He did.” Florence takes a deep breath, and once again looks up for Isa, her big eyes begging her to offer up her thoughts.

Isa takes a moment to study her friend’s face, taking in the sharp angles of her cheekbones that look skinnier than the last time she really looked at them, her thin lips covered in nervous bite marks, and her eyes that droop downwards like those of a sad puppy. Her bangs had gotten too long, forgotten about and abandoned in the midst of touring.

Finally, Isa inhales.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks innocently, not having to specify what hidden part of Florence she was talking about. Tears well in Florence’s eyes once again as Isa brushes her wild red fringe to the side.

“You were busy. And I was—am—I’m just not in a good place.” Isa frowns, and suddenly Florence feels stupid as the words leave her mouth. Isa had been the person to put up with her at her absolute worst, year after year. Hell, Isa had been the one to comfort her the first time she had gotten _drunk_ -drunk as a teenager, falling into the foyer of her childhood home on a night Isa was over watching her younger siblings. Isa should have been the first person for her to call when she was at home packing and crying at the mere thought of going back on tour.

“Okay,” Isa says gently, her voice raspy from sleep. She presses a kiss into Florence’s head.

Florence closes her eyes and lightly laughs. “I feel so stupid.”  
"No, you’re not. You’re tired and hurting.”

Florence contemplates Isa’s words as she fiddles with the lightswitch, turning the dim light, on, and off, on, and off.

Isa puts a stop to it by gently putting her hand over Florence’s. “What are you thinking, Flo?”

Suddenly feeling exposed, Florence sits up, her long hair whipping around her shoulders. She scoots back, and gets under the duvet before leaning back on the wall, mirroring Isa. “I’m scared.”  


“Why?”

“Because I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. With sleeping here, in a glamorous coffin. With people recognizing me. It’s weird, and I hate it, and I hate performing, I hate the monotony, I hate feeling like I’m living the same day over and over and over again,” she says decidedly. “And that was before, you know, _this_ ,” she says, her hands wildly flying over her torso. She tosses herself back on the wall with a whimper and the tears start flowing again.

“Hey,” Isa says, wrapping an arm around Florence and putting her head on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. You’re okay. You don’t even _know_ if you’re pregnant yet. And if you are we can get you taken care of. And then if you want, we can cancel this whole thing and go home. Just say the word and it’s done. All of it.”

Florence shakes her head, upset that Isa doesn’t just _get_ it like she used to. Upset that Isa can’t read her mind. But again, it’s not Isa’s fault, so she just nods and lets out a quiet “Thank you,” before drifting back to sleep.

—

In the early hours of the morning they arrive at the hotel, and Florence can’t be bothered to change into real clothes. She and Isa (mostly Isa) move their things up to Florence’s room, Isa already knowing that Florence could use some company. Isa tosses Florence’s ornate throws around the room, making the overwhelming whiteness of it all a little more bearable, and then collapses onto the bed next to Florence.

Florence leans over and kisses her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Just, for being you.” Florence turns onto her back as the early-morning sun peaks through the curtains. Even though Florence found herself frustrated with Isa during their conversation in the night, she knows that Isa will always know and understand her heart, even if it takes some more time and explaining than it used to.

Isa sighs. “So what do you suppose we should do today?” she asks gently, not willing to offer up the explicit words they are both thinking.

Florence bites at her lip. “I guess I should, you know…”

“Yeah,” Isa quickly agrees. “I can go grab some snacks too? Our usuals?”

Florence nods with a small smile. “Our usuals sound great. Thank you, Iz.”

—

Isa returns 45 minutes later with a bag full of pretzels, biscuits, and smarties.

...And a test, pushed down to the bottom of the bag.

Isa walks over to the bed where she finds Florence with her eyes closed, though definitely not asleep as she continues to bite on her cheek—a nervous habit Isa’s noticed since the day she first met a shy, fourteen-year-old Flo. Isa sits on the edge of the bed and strokes her arm. “Flo, my love. Why don’t we go ahead and get the test out of the way so you don’t have to keep thinking about it,” she says, knowing the anxious tendencies of her friend. Florence silently agrees and swings her legs unwillingly over the bed.

25 minutes later they have an answer lying in an undeniably pink line.

“I didn’t need the test you know,” Florence says meekly. “I’ve been puking non-stop and I’m like 50 weeks late at this point.”

“But at least you have a definitive answer.”  
“Yeah.” All at once Florence begins crying. She curses under her breath and wonders if she will ever run out of tears.

“Flo, Florence. Come on.” Isa leads her away from where she is leaning on the bathroom counter back to the bed. Florence sits on the edge and leans her shoulder and head against the headboard. Isa wordlessly climbs behind her, tucking her chin over Florence’s shoulder. “Flo, talk to me. Let’s talk this through.” Florence takes some deep breaths and tries to calm herself down.

Before beginning, Florence mutters under her breath, “This is all so dumb.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” Isa confidently replies before pressing a kiss to her temple. “Go on, whatever you want to tell me. Let it out.”

“Alright,” Florence says nervously. “JJ had this Valentine’s party. He told me to come just because I was in this shit mood and I couldn’t shake it and he was worried. I didn’t drink or anything, but I stayed late and it was just a small group of us and there was this guy, I think he was like 28, JJ’s age or so, and we just started talking. And we really were having such a good time. He was visiting one of JJ’s friends from the states, and we ended going back to his hotel room just to keep talking and I figured it would be fine because my house was not even a kilometer from there. But, ehm…”

Florence stumbles. Sex lives are something she and Isa haven’t discussed since all the way back when the pair would hook up just for fun after a night out. Her cheeks burn just at the thought of the odd one-night-stand she had last month.

“So, we... yeah. The next morning he was gone, and I don’t even know his name. And I’m fairly certain he doesn't even know mine, thank god. He left me a coffee just the way I like it and a note that said ‘lovely meeting you’. And that was it. I didn’t even think anything of it. He wore, you know,” Florence blushes again, “and that was that.”

By now, Florence has calmed down to a point where Isa thinks she can speak logically with her.

“So it really was just a one time thing?”

“Yeah, I mean he wasn’t even my type,” Florence says. “It was just spur of the moment. I don’t think it lasted for even ten minutes.”

Isa nods, and the two sit in silence as Isa twirls Florence’s hair around her fingers.

“Well, we just have four more nights until April break, and then we go home and we can get this sorted,” Isa says matter-of-factly. “You won’t even have to go through the worst of it, as long as you can handle the vom for awhile longer.”

Florence absent-mindedly nods, thinking back to the many conversations they had as newly-famous kids about how they would never, _ever_ have children.

But she’s an adult now, and things change.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week passes painfully slow, and is filled with tears, vomit, and sleep; sometimes with Rob or Isa at her side, sometimes without. Tom passes her lots of sympathetic looks, cluing her in that Isa or Rob already told him. The “New Kids,” as they had affectionately named Hazel, Aku, Cyrus, Dionne, and Loren last year, pass worried whispers between them and offer her smiles any time she is around.

Once again she doesn’t give any encores, and soon social media is swarming with pictures of her, white and covered in sweat, and the fans who keep up with her are concerned. Isa scrolls through Twitter, checking for the worst of the damage every night, and does her best to keep Florence away from her phone.

After the final show, they say their goodbyes to the bus and fly home. Florence already has plans to stay at her sisters for a week, and is eternally grateful for time with Grace, who has always been able to understand her better than anyone.

It is a very short flight to London, and she hugs her sister tight at the baggage claim. Her blonde hair is styled into a neat pixie cut, and Florence has a thought about how her little sister looks so adult when she feels about 12 years old. “You alright?” Grace asks with a soft smile when Florence pulls away. Grace holds her sister’s shoulders tight, examining her facial expression with concern.

Florence wipes a stray tear from her eye before nervously flipping her long hair over her shoulder and walking over to grab her large duffle. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just tired. We can talk when we get home.”

Grace knows her older sister is blatantly lying, but she nods her head anyway and helps her move her many bags to the back of her car.

—

“So an entire tour of Europe! How was it? What was the coolest place you saw?” Grace asks excitedly. Florence misses the days when Grace traveled all over with her, the two of them just kids trying to make sure the other didn’t do something stupid and die. But now Grace had her own child, a sweet little toddler named Bonnie with a mop of blonde hair, and a wonderful husband who treated her like a man should. Her domestic life was a far cry from the life of Florence.

Florence half-heartedly smiles from across the bed. “It was touring. I’m tired, I’m ready for the break.” Grace nods, familiar with the stress of it all from when she would go with Florence.

“Yeah, I get that,” she says. She takes a good look at her sister, taking an inventory of every part of her body. She looks skinnier than she’s ever been, her skin pale, and her hair wild and overgrown. Her lips are more chewed-up than they normally are. Her eyes gaze down in a trance. “Flo,” Grace asks earnestly, “are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m pregnant Grace,” Florence blurts out before having a chance to even think about the immediate consequences of those words. Her wild green eyes look upward, searching for a look of reassurance from Grace, and quickly flutter back downward when she is met with a stoic look from the blonde.

The words take Grace by surprise. She was ready for a wide variety of confessions, but not this. Before this moment, Grace would have been fairly certain that Florence was close to approaching an entire year of celibacy after the atrocious break-up she went through. A thousand thoughts and questions run through her mind, but she makes a conscious effort to remain calm and maintain composure.

Grace moves to the other side of the bed as Florence continues to sit in her trance, her green eyes cast downward. _So the tears have finally run dry_ , Florence thinks. Grace sits next to her and wraps a single arm around her shoulder. Florence flinches at the touch, but Grace continues to hold her tight. “Okay, so what are you thinking?”

Florence chooses her next words carefully, wanting to make sure she means everything she says. She wants to clearly lay out the logistics of why and how she would do it, and how everything would just work out in the end even though it made no sense. Even though this is the peak of her career, even though she feels more connected to her fans than ever, even though—

“I want to keep it,” she again blurts out mid-thought, her eyes once again rapidly moving up to meet her sister’s. She waits for a response from Grace, always the more logical and pragmatic of the two. She waits for Grace to tell her why this is a bad decision, that she can’t just go and ruin her career over ten minutes of mediocre sex. She waits for Grace to offer to call the clinic. Instead, Grace grabs her face on either side, and stares intently into her green and amber eyes. She offers her a warm smile that reaches the corners of her eyes.

“Well then congratulations, Flo,” she says, tucking her sister’s hair behind her ear. “I love you.”

It isn’t what Florence is expecting, and she once again begins sobbing at the feeling of someone embracing her. Finally, she feels free. She feels like she has just the tiniest bit of control over her life, over her body. That for once, her priorities are going to be put first. For the first time in years, she feels _hope_.

—

Even though Florence is exhausted, they spend the rest of the night cuddling and talking in the small guest bed. In the quiet dark of Grace’s South London house, Florence feels safe, and she lets out every possible worry she has. She tells Grace that she’s scared of the media, what they will write about her when they find out. She’s scared of letting down her band and her fans. She’s scared of her one-night-stand finding out and freaking out about it all the way across the atlantic. She’s scared of children. She’s scared of doctors and needles and pain. She’s scared of telling their parents, of JJ putting two and two together and realizing exactly what happened.

Grace, in her typical fashion, takes in every word Florence says and puts her fears to rest one by one. Towards the end of their conversation they decide that Grace will tell their parents and JJ when Florence goes back to America for the next leg of the tour in order to give them some time to process. While she loved her parents dearly, they hadn’t exactly been in the closest of touch for the past year, and she didn’t want to reintroduce herself into their lives with a bombshell. The only thing Florence is really left to worry about after their seven hour conversation is what to do with the tour.

“Florence, you’re 32 years old and having been doing this since you were 22, no one is going to question you if you need a break,” Grace says sweetly. Florence buries herself deeper into Grace’s shoulder. “You go to North America, you take things slow, you sit and sing your heart out for an hour each night and then you rest. You tell the band everything, and you surround yourself with all of them. You cancel Europe, tell everyone you haven’t been well and need a bit of time to recover. And from there you’re free. You can do whatever you want. You can tell the world about the pregnancy, or not. You can put out new music, or not. You don’t ever have to go back if you don’t want,” Grace says, turning to her sister to see what she’s thinking.

“I’d never forgive myself, Grace.”

“Why?”

  
“Because I have all these people who care so deeply about me, about this band and my music, and I would be disappointing them. Basically telling them that I don’t care about seeing them, I don’t care about all the plans they’ve made months in advance to come see me only for a few hours. And the band,” Florence says with a groan, “they’ve worked way too hard and given up way too much for me to just toss an entire tour away.”

“Flo,” Grace says, grabbing her hand under the covers. “You just said you have all these fans who care so deeply for you. Do you think they would ever hold it against you if you said you needed some time to take care of yourself?”

“No, but—”

“No, they wouldn’t. Full stop. They love you, and they will be nothing but happy for you when they finally seeing you thriving off of the stage.”

  
“But what about the band?”

“Flo, you have more money than god at this point. You apologize and pay the band and crew well and put all of their names out there with a good word. You tell them that they’ll be welcome back with open arms to record and tour if and when you put out new music. They all love you more than you know, and they’ll all be over the moon to be aunts and uncles.”

Flo cringes a bit at the reminder that she’ll have a tiny version of her likeness in a few months time.

“Okay?” Grace continues. “You’ve got to trust me that this will all going to work out just fine,” she says with finality. She gives Flo’s hand one last squeeze before letting go and wrapping her arms around her.

“I love you Gracie,” Florence says quietly. She feels like she is 10 years old again, running to 8 year old Grace’s room after a bad nightmare. Grace was never wrong about everything being okay back then, and Florence knows she’s sure as hell not going to be wrong 22 years later.

“I love you too, Flo.”


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Grace finds herself at the hospital clinic with Florence. Florence’s knee jumps up and down nervously as she sits in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, surrounded by pregnant women and a few men who lovingly hold their hands. Her long hair is pulled into a neat braid that presses into her back as she falls towards the wall. Grace forced her to wear an inconspicuous t-shirt with leggings, trainers and a ball cap as to not draw attention to herself—not that she was overly worried about Florence being recognized in the quiet town. Florence begrudgingly put on the outfit and muttered something about how she looked like an out-of-place American before sulking to the car.

As women are called back, Grace thinks about all the times Florence would just start crying over the most random things as a kid. About all the horrible thoughts Florence would come up with that would send her into a spiral of worst-case-scenarios. If Grace is being honest, she thinks that the scenario her sister found herself in now is far worse than 90 percent of the scenarios that scared her as a child.

Grace thinks about all the times, even as a little kid barely able to walk, that she would go up to an inconsolable Florence and lay her head on her lap. Florence would always eventually calm down and then they would have a long talk until Florence would be crying with laughter and eventually fall asleep. Even though it felt like thankless work sometimes, Grace always enjoyed having the power to make Florence better; it was a power no one else came close to possessing.

Florence continues to bounce her knee up and down until Grace puts her hand over it. “Flo, calm down. I’m here, you’re going to be just fine.” She nods and sits up taller, grabbing Grace’s hand tight.

“Mary Welch?” a nurse says in the same instant, popping her head out of a large wooden door. Florence doesn’t flinch at the unfamiliar name, but Grace jumps up and leads her to the door. “I put Mary as your ‘preferred’ name, sorry,” Grace whispers quietly with a grimace. Florence shuts her eyes briefly and bites her lip, not appreciating the subtle reminder that she is indeed famous. 

The nurse walks them back to a room in the far corner and shows Florence to the examination table.

“Make yourself at home, hun. The doctor will be here in just a bit,” she says with a warm smile.

Florence offers her a hesitant smile back. “Thank you,” she and Grace say in unison.

“Any other lies I should know about?” Florence asks Grace as the door shuts, shuffling the pillow behind her back and swinging her legs up to the table.

Grace rolls her eyes. “It’s hardly a lie Flo. Your full name is on there, but there was a preferred name section and I figured you’d _prefer_ to not have ‘Florence Welch is here! And preggo!’ shouted out every time you come here.”

Florence bites her lip, sorry that she even questioned her sister’s logic. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous,” she says.

“You’re fine Flo, I'm sorry I snapped at you” Grace replies, grabbing her hand again. “You have every right to be nervous. I requested the most experienced doctor they have here, which hopefully translates to the _oldest_ doctor they have, and hopefully you’ll just be another redhead they see from time to time.”

Florence smiles at her sister’s quiet genius. She always was and still is the thoughtful one.

Florence and Grace sit in silence for a few minutes. Flo studies the many tools and machines strewn about the small, sterile room, and Grace checks her phone.

_From Isa, 12:31: How is she_ _holding up? She hasn’t been answering my texts x_

_From Grace, 12:42: She’s alright. We’re at clinic now and I’ve been holding her phone hostage. Don’t want her to see everything going round sm. I’ll call you later xx_

_From Isa, 12:43: Okay, I hope everything goes alright. Talk to you later_

As Grace puts her phone down, the doctor pulls the door open. “Hiya,” she says, putting down a folder. “How are you? I’m Dr. Singh, you can call me Sylvie,” she says, offering a warm smile and a hand. Florence shakes her hand gently.

“I’m Floren—Mary. Nice to meet you.” She looks at Grace nervously.

Sylvie moves on to Grace. “I’m Grace, so nice to meet you. You can call her Florence, we just put down Mary because we, ehm, we didn’t want her name being called out.” Grace looks back at Flo reassuringly.

“Oh that’s quite alright, I completely get that,” she says, her long white ponytail draped over her shoulder. "Seems like privacy has become a thing of the past," she says with a chuckle. She takes a moment to study the notes Grace provided at the desk and fiddles with her pen. “So Florence, I see you took a home test that came back positive, how long ago was that?” she asks in a calm tone.

Florence is put at ease by her gentle dark brown eyes, and she answers slowly. “Ehm, about… I suppose—I think it was a week ago? A week and a half maybe?” Florence falls into her nervous habit of answering questions with many unnecessary words.

“Okay. And how many missed cycles have you had now? Do you remember the date of your last one?”

“I think... I think two at this point?” She looks to Grace as if she would know the answer. Grace immediately sees the fear in her eyes creeping back and she quietly grabs her hand, interlocking her fingers with Florence’s. “My last one was late January,” she says, remembering the very hot run to the nearest drugstore to buy tampons with Isa in Brisbane.

Sylvie types her notes into her laptop and turns back towards Florence. “Would you remember the date of conception by any chance? Or around what day it might have happened?”

“February 14th. Or, ehm—15th. The 15th of February,” Florence says, cringing, knowing that the doctor would know exactly what went down.

Except she didn’t.

She _really_ didn't.

“And how did you decide to do that? What process did you use?” she asks, looking between Florence and Grace.

“Oh, ehm, the normal way? I suppose,” Florence trails off quietly, somewhat confused by the question.

“But what process? Artificial insemination, at home insemination, IVF, reciprocal IVF,” she lists off, her eyes going between Florence, Grace, and their interlocked hands.

Grace suddenly lets out a ferocious laugh and pulls her hand away from Florence.

“Oh, _oh_ , you’re not… um—”

“No, no, we’re sisters,” Grace says through a chuckle.

“ _Oh!_ ” Sylvie exclaims with a slight blush.

Florence looks to Grace with a confused smile, still not completely understanding what is going on. _Oh._

For the first time in a week, Florence lets out a good, genuine laugh, flashing her white teeth towards Grace.

“I can’t blame you for that mistake,” Florence says. “We look nothing alike and we’ve basically been holding hands since the second she was born,” she says with a quiet laugh.

“Well regardless, I apologize for that,” Sylvie replies with a soft smile. “After all these years I learned to never assume anything, and now it finally backfires,” she says with a laugh. “Well moving right along then, do you have a partner asides from your lovely sister in the picture?”

“I don’t,” Florence says meekly, and the laughter dies down.

Dr. Singh holds eye contact with Florence for a split second longer than what Florence considers comfortable, a look of sympathy in her dark brown orbs. Florence hates it.

"Okay," Sylvie says gently. The older woman scribbles something down and then looks up from her notes, studying the way the slender girl in front of her bites at her cheek and fiddles with a ring on her hand. She looks like she might burst into tears at any second. She clicks her pen a few times before speaking again. "Grace, would you give your sister and I a moment please? I'll have them call you back in when we get to the ultrasound," she says with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Flo, do you want anything to drink? I can run to the café if you want," she says, picking up her things.

Flo offers a weak smile back. "I'm okay, thanks."

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit."

The door shuts and Florence feels nervous without Grace's presence. She suddenly feels alone again, even with the nice doctor in the room with her. Dr. Singh looks at her with pity in her eyes, and once again Florence feels stupid. She diverts her gaze to the white tiles lining the ceiling.

She is startled by Dr. Singh grabbing her hand.

"I wanted to talk to you alone because I have a feeling you and I share something that not a whole lot of women can understand," she says in a hushed tone.

"Pardon?"  
"The way you're squirming around right now, the way you're so nervous to answer my questions? I've been there, my dear," she says, her eyes now bearing into Florence's soul.

Florence bites her lip as tears collect in the bottom of her eyes. She pulls off the stupid cap Grace forced her to wear and tosses it onto the now empty seat beside the table before nervously pulling at the braid that she had so neatly done a few hours previously.

"What do you mean?" Florence asks.

Dr. Singh sighs, taking a seat beside Florence on the table. "I was 35. Didn't have a husband. Didn't _want_ one. I was one of the best surgeons in London. At the absolute top of my career. And then one day, I found myself pregnant. And it was the scariest thing that ever happened to me."

Florence hesitantly nods her head. Scared doesn't even begin to cover it.

"And being at one of the best hospitals in the country, I figured I'd just terminate it. Move on with life. But the scary part for me wasn't finding out that I was pregnant, or the thought of ending the pregnancy. It was coming to the realization that I kind of _wanted_ it even though it made no sense."

Florence bites her cheek harder than she did before as it begins to tremble. "So what did you do?"

"I put myself first for the first time in my life and did what I wanted."

And then Florence finds herself back in her crying state that she thought she had finally left. She _gets_ it. For the past week Florence had been wondering why she's putting herself through this when there was such an easy and simple solution that she had absolutely nothing against, personally or morally. But for some reason, it felt like something sacred was happening deep within her bones. That it was time for change. That it was time for her body, which she had spent the better part of her teenage years and twenties hating, to create something bigger and more beautiful than herself. That it was time to settle down into a routine, even if it was just in a family of two. Dr. Singh _got_ it.

Sylvie pulls Florence up from her spot leaning back on the table, and embraces the younger woman that reminds her so much of herself. Florence tries to control her breathing, and she once again feels just ever-so-slightly more free than she did five minutes ago, much like when she talked to Grace a few nights ago.

Florence pulls away and wipes under her eyes as Sylvie offers her a tissue.

"So how are they doing now?" Florence asks.

"My Nigel is 30 and dances professionally. He is my most favorite person in the world," she says, a tear now escaping from her own eye. She laughs as she wipes her cheek before looking back to Florence. "So now that we have that out the way, why don't you tell me some about yourself and how you're handling all of this? You're my last appointment of the day and I have absolutely nowhere to be, I'd love if you'd talk to me."

With that, Florence spends half-an-hour talking about her life, attempting to explain her fame (which Dr. Singh does not seem to comprehend—thank god), how she found herself pregnant, and how while she is surrounded by people seemingly all the time, she has a somewhat weak support system in place.

"Why?" Sylvie asks. "You are a lovely girl to be around. Why do you feel so alone?"

Florence smiles and then does the thing where she mutters useless words for thirty seconds before coming up with an answer. "Ehm," she begins, "I don't—I really—I suppose I just... you know... ehm, I tend to, um, push people away?" she says, exaggerating the upswing of the question at the end of her thought. Sylvie waits for further explanation but doesn't get one.

"You can work on that," she says quietly after a few moments of awkward silence. "And like it or not, I found that people tend to care about you more when you're pregnant. You just need to find your people my dear, things will work out. And for now, you're stuck with me once every two weeks." She pauses before adding, "And your sister, every day I'm assuming." In the moment, Florence decides that now is not the time to break it to her very sweet new friend that she is going to be running around America in a months’ time. She simply nods her head. "Alright, now on to the fun part?"

—

Half an hour later Florence is walking back to the car with Grace. "It looks just like you, Flo," Grace says, poking fun at her sister who she was surprised to find in a spectacularly better mood than when she had left the little examination room. Florence clutches onto the grainy ultrasound picture of a blob like a small child clings to a stuffed animal. For the first time in days, she is holding herself up taller, and has the smallest of smiles on her lips. She just seemed _lighter_. "What were you and Dr. Singh talking about all that time?"

Florence shrugs her shoulders as she shuts the passenger door. "Things," she says as she pulls the seatbelt across her. "She gets it," Florence says with a finality, not offering up more details for the moment.

"Well, I'm glad we like her. She was very sweet."

Florence nods, looking down at the small, glossy picture in her hands. She couldn't tell you what anything is, only that the gray thing in the middle of it all is what will eventually be a tiny human. It overwhelms Florence and she feels terrified and absolutely thrilled all in the same breath. "BABY F.W.," it reads in the corner. "6 WKS, 28/03/19". She runs her thumb over it, and then, realizing that this little thing she suddenly cares so much about is actually _in_ her, she runs her thumb over the skin right below her navel. Sylvie warned her not to get too emotionally attached quite yet, and to wait to tell extended family and friends just in case of a miscarriage, but this little picture alone already had Florence feeling more alive than she had in years. She feels at peace, and finally finds sleep with her head lightly bouncing against Grace's passenger window on the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! I apologize in advance for my american-ness, I caught myself using so many words that would never be used in the uk and I'm sure some slipped through... Please let me know if there's anything specific you'd like to see or anything you want me to explore! I'm super open to suggestions :)


	5. Chapter 5

Upon request, Grace drops Florence off at her little Georgian-terrace house and promises to come back later with her all of bags and takeaway for them to share over a Bake-Off marathon. After begging her to agree to it, Grace had gotten Flo a television for Christmas, which she was now very grateful for (even though it didn't "match the aesthetic" of her small but wildly decorated home). Florence smiles and waves at her sister as she drives away, and then turns on her heel up the sidewalk to the front door. The vines around the front have become overgrown, but in a pretty way, and the first blooms have begun to appear around the garden. Florence turns the key in the lock, and is hit by the scent of freshly cut wood and vanilla that she had grown so accustomed to that she stopped smelling it before she left for the tour. She trots up the stairs, eager to ditch the leggings she had been wearing for a pair of silk pyjamas.

She finds her bedroom in the exact clean state she left it in, and she takes a moment to thank her past self for sorting through the disarray her room was in before leaving. She opens her top drawer and finds her favorite pink pair laying on top, neatly folded. She shimmies into them and finally feels a sense of home before sliding under the covers of her familiar bed. She takes one last look at the black and white photo in her hands before gently placing it on the night stand and falling asleep.

—

Isabella Summers had never been one to feel big emotions. She grew up with a bunch of boys who showed expression only through grungey music and fist-fighting, so she never quite mastered the art of expressing herself. Isa preferred to just quietly sit with her thoughts until she managed to wash her brain anew like a blank blackboard at the end of a school day. When she cried, only a few tears let loose before she would eventually pull herself together, and when she screamed, she would only manage maybe one sentence at full volume before returning to calm. She thought it was easier that way, rather than losing herself in a black hole of thoughts that would only overwhelm her.

And maybe that's perhaps why she finds herself surprised when she bursts into uncontrollable tears as soon as she crosses the threshold of her London flat after another long day of mixing music that she didn't particularly care for. She puts down her bag and her laptop before launching herself onto the sofa in the corner of her living room. Tears mix with mascara, and soon enough there is a lovely black streak on her new cream throw. She sits there for a good half-hour until her stomach hurts from crying and her nose is stuffed to the point that she can't breathe properly.

For a moment, she doesn’t even know what triggered the meltdown, so she sits there filing through everything that has bothered her over the last three days. Was it the traveling? Was it the shitty demos being thrown at her to fix? Was it the cloudy London sky that just wouldn't clear?

 _No_ , she realizes after a moment, _it was Florence_.

She brings her knees to her chest and lets out an audible groan. Florence had been nearly radio-silent for the last week and a half, and the last she had seen or heard from her friend was in the airport when Flo offered her a weak goodbye and hug before climbing into Grace's car. The distance that had developed between her and Flo hadn't really bothered her until Florence's breakdown. It seemed natural, and she knew it could always be closed at the drop of a pin. In that Barcelona hotel, she thought they might have made some progress at salvaging their close friendship. But once they left the hotel, no further words—at least meaningful ones—were spoken to Isa from the redhead. They spent a week physically close, with Isa holding her hair back in various toilets and even sleeping in her bunk some nights, but regardless, she felt further from Flo than ever. She didn't understand why—she _couldn't_ understand why.

And it hurt beyond words.

She sits and blankly stares at the wall, thinking about the first time she met Flo, a lanky fourteen-year-old with oddly dyed strawberry-blonde hair. While babysitting a young Grace, Isa would sit and listen to Florence go on and on and on about her daily adventures, the two of them sitting in the living room exchanging stories about whatever young teenagers are meant to do. Isa eventually grew to feel like a protective older sister of the quirky child, too old to be babysat and yet too young to be trusted with doing the babysitting. She reminded her of herself at that age, being all caught up in trying to figure out how to act adult whilst still having the mind of a child.

Then Grace got older, and Isa stopped coming by. Years flew past before eventually, one random day at the studio, Isa spotted a shock of bright red hair followed by an unmistakably airy laugh.

 _Florence_.

She was on the arm of a guy probably ten years her senior, laughing at his every word. He was at the studio to have the action on his guitar fixed up, and Florence faithfully clung to him as he walked around, inspecting the various posters plastered up on the walls. That is, until she spotted the older girl who had dutifully sat with her every Friday night when she was a younger teenager, listening to her various stories about covens and Green Day and falling out of trees. The nice girl with dark hair and big blue eyes who cleaned up her puke and put her to bed before her parents returned home the first time she got wasted.

"Isa," Florence whispered softly. "Oh my god, it's been ages," she said, excusing herself from the man's side to wrap her thin, long arms around the shorter girl.

Isa felt odd, hugging the girl who used to seem so much younger than her, now nearly a foot taller than her. Her hair had gotten brighter, her voice deeper, and her face more angled. Her green eyes shone the same, but they now seemed more mature, more refined.

"Florence, gosh, look at you, all adult!" Isa was trying to do the math in her head as she clung to the younger girl. _I was 20 when I started babysitting Grace, and Florence was 14, and now I'm 25, so she's what, 19?_

Florence giggled. "Yeah, yeah, it happens." She continued to hold onto Isa's shoulder before asking, "So what exactly are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm a producer here. Just mixing for local bands, you know. I think I saw that you're in a band, is that right?"

Florence nodded her head yes with a small smile. "Yeah, I mean, I don't really do much in it, I kind of just sing backing vocals, but it keeps me busy."

"Well that's good," Isa said, keeping her eyes locked in Florence's, noticing the subtle disappointment in them. "You should really come by some time, we could make something," Isa suggested.

"Yeah," Florence agreed, "I'll have to tell the guys."

Isa shook her head with a confused smile. "No Flo, I meant just you."

"Oh!" Florence said with a laugh and then a grimace. "I'm not sure you'd want that."

"If your voice still sounds anything like it did in those living room renditions of 'Guys and Dolls,' I'd love for you to stop by."

Florence laughed, suddenly recalling when she used to torture Isa when she was rehearsing for school musicals. "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it," she said earnestly.

"Flo!" the random boyfriend shouted from across the large room. "I'm leaving." Florence rolled her eyes with a lovesick smile, which for some reason disgusted Isa.

"It was lovely to see you, Isa," Florence said, squeezing Isa's hand one last time before disappearing into the dark South London streets.

—

Sirens and church bells wail outside as Isa continues to reminisce. She thinks back to the first time she and Florence shared a stage in a grimy old bar. They were given fifteen minutes to play, and Florence had quickly come up with the stage name "Florrible and Misrabella" when asked by the emcee.

"What?" Florence had said incredulously that night when Isa questioned the odd name. "I think it quite suits us."

  
They played three songs that got enough applause for them to feel good about themselves, and immediately after, a very drunk Florence pinned Isa to a bathroom wall and kissed her hard.

Isa didn't kiss her back, as she was shocked by the quick action and still caught up in thinking of Florence as a child. But for some reason, she felt instant regret that she didn't reciprocate the second Florence pulled away.

"Sorry about that," Florence said with a goofy smile on her face. "I just love you and your magical music-making self so much." She released her grip on the shorter girl and skipped out of the bathroom, and Isa was left alone to begin a nearly three-year journey of unrequited love in a dirty bar bathroom.

She thinks about all the times they'd drunkenly hooked up after gigs, and breakups, and wild after parties. It was all fumbling hands and lips, and giggles from Florence as Isa would lay still, breathlessly trying to commit every touch to memory.

"Was that okay?" she remembers Florence asking one night after Isa had a particularly bad breakup. That night was the first-time Flo had taken the lead, and Isa's head was spinning from the tenderness of Florence's hands. Isa remembers kissing Florence's forehead and responding "It was perfect," before turning herself to let Florence spoon her like she always did. Florence peacefully slept as Isa cried herself to sleep that night, completely at a loss of what to do with her feelings that had no chance of being reciprocated.

—

Isa slowly makes her way back to reality, and notices that the day has gone dark behind her curtains. She sighs, and hesitantly picks up her phone, scrolling down to the contact that had a silly picture of a cross-eyed, 21-year-old Florence in the little circle above her name. She hovers her thumb over the call button, then hesitates as she tries to think of what she could even say to her distant friend from across a phone line. She studies the phone number she had etched into her mind all those years ago before going back and scrolling up the list to the other Welch she has saved in her phone.

She sits and secretly hopes that she doesn't pick up.

"Hiya, give me one second," she hears Grace say from the other end. "It's Isa," Grace whispers in the background.

"Oh no, are you with Flo? I can call you later," Isa says.

  
"No, no it's fine, we were just watching Bake-Off. She'll be fine on her own for a few minutes. What's up?"

"I just wanted to check in and see how she's doing. I know you went to the doctor this morning, did everything go okay?"

Grace hesitates in a moment of confusion, wondering what Isa meant. It had only a quick checkup. "Yeah, of course. I don't think there was really anything to go wrong? The doctor seemed really nice."

"Oh good. That's good," Isa says, unsure of what to say. She hadn't spoken to Grace in easily a year or so, and the conversation didn't flow as naturally as it did when Grace was a rambunctious 22-year-old on tour with them.

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should come 'round this week? I'm sure Flo would love some company other than myself."

Isa bites her lip. "Yeah, of course. I'll be over at some point."

"Okay." There is an awkward pause before Grace speaks again. "And Isa?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't be such a stranger. I miss your face."

Isa smiles, another tear falling onto her face.

"Yeah. I miss you too Gracie."

—

The next morning Florence jolts awake in her own bed before running around the corner and into the bathroom. Somehow puking feels a thousand times worse without someone by her side, and she sits in agony for what seems like an eternity, going back and forth between leaning over the toilet, and slumping against the bathtub. When she is done she flushes the toilet before standing in front of the mirror, slightly scared to look at herself. She nervously spends some time rinsing her mouth out repeatedly with water, and then splashing it all over her face. When she finally looks up, she is met with curly red fringe on top of a sweaty forehead. Her eyes hold tiny creases around them that she doesn't remember being there before, and her irises seem a lighter shade of green. Her cheekbones are more well defined, and her lips are cracked from the cold late-March air of London.

She groans before departing the bathroom and returning to her bed, lying on top of the covers that are slightly damp with sweat. She mindlessly plays with one of the many splayed out tresses around her, and thinks about the small being slowly taking over her body.

She thinks about the little bundle of cells sprouting into this teeny-tiny human like a flower blooming in the spring. She reaches to her nightstand to find the picture, and then studies it with the morning light filtering through the window.

She thinks about the fact that this little thing inside of her will eventually have a name, a personality, a hair color, an eye color. She thinks about little Bonnie with her white-blonde hair and big blue eyes, and wonders if maybe this tiny alien will look anything like her niece.

She once again finds herself running her thumb along her stomach, and thinks about the bump that will eventually fill in the hallow space between her two hip bones. She thinks about the days that she would let pass as a teenager without eating, how the thought of gaining weight used to make her feel physically ill. She had spent so much time fighting that battle, and the realization that she was almost _excited_ for her stomach to grow huge felt like a little victory in and of itself.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakable sound of an iPhone marimba chime. She rolls over to her nightstand and flips over the phone.  
_Isa_.

It isn't that Florence doesn't want to talk to her, it is more just the fact that speaking to Isa feels somewhat unnatural considering they hadn't talked just to talk for months up until two weeks prior. When Florence needed her for that last, rough week of touring Isa had definitely stepped up and it felt almost like they reverted back to being the friends they had been for thirteen years, but still—something just felt _off_.

 _Maybe it is because Isa is leaving,_ Florence thinks. Flo had always been paranoid, but she could just feel that Isa was ready to move on from the little project that was meant to be a one-off over a decade ago. Florence worries that maybe Isa was so nice to her in that time of need because she was about to break her heart by leaving.

Not that Isa hadn't broken her heart before.

It was 2011 in New York City when Florence experienced her second-ever heart break at the hands of her best friend.

She had just ended her relationship with Stuart—who treated her like an object at best—and she was in an endless cycle of looking for love in anyone and anything. Isa knew it, being the only one who closely witnessed the direct decent of Florence into her own personal whirlwind.

They had played SNL, and went to a huge after-party with the entire cast. Florence was glowing as usual, her hair neatly parted down the middle and slicked back to either side. People flocked around her, drawn in by her soprano speaking voice and gentle accent. After a few hours and a few too many drinks, Florence and Isa left the party early, exhausted from the full day of interviews and photoshoots and rehearsals. They made their way back to the very expensive hotel that the executives at SNL had booked, the cold November air whipping around them.

They went back to Isa's room—as Florence's was full of wardrobes and makeup chairs—and had passionate sex under the white linen sheets illuminated only from the bright lights outside.

Little did either of them know, it would be the last time they would ever touch each other that intimately.

"You're so much gentler than Stuart was," Florence had said that night with a raspy voice, fatigued from singing and alcohol. Her naked figure was wrapped around the side of Isa's, and she pressed kiss into her shoulder as Isa turned to look at her face.

"Don't say his name," Isa said gently, tucking Florence's now messy hair behind her ear. "He doesn't deserve even a piece of your pretty mind." Florence silently nodded in agreement. Even though the alcohol was beginning to wear off, she still felt a bit braver than she normally did.

"Do you ever think about us?" she asked innocently, interrupting the peaceful silence that had fallen over them.

Isa's eyebrows converged as she let out a soft, confused laugh. "Ehm, like what do you mean?"

"I mean, like, you know," Florence trailed off a bit before turning onto her back and looking at the ceiling. "Like, we love each other as friends, clearly, and we do _this_ when we're drunk and feeling good," she began with a slight seriousness before she turned to look at Isa once again, "do you ever think about this when you're sober? Like, sometimes, I think we could work."

Isa let out a hearty laugh. The same kind of laugh that she would when Florence made a dumb joke. Florence felt like a fist was grabbing her heart through her chest.

"Oh Florence, no, babe," she said, still cackling a little bit, waiting for her friend to join in. She had long ago repressed any feelings she had for her younger friend, and instead reverted to joking about how they had a perfect no-strings-attached relationship every chance she got. She expected at any moment for Florence to start laughing too.

Instead, she looked to Florence and was met with green irises shining with tears. "Oh, you weren't—you weren't joking, were you..."

Florence lightly shook her head, the alcohol making her more emotional than she wanted to be.

Immediately, Isa felt like she needed to quickly gloss it over. _Florence is just drunk and emotional_ , she thought, _she won't even remember this conversation come morning_. "Hey, you're upset about the breakup. I get it," Isa said, trying to piece together the slight awkwardness. "We've both had a long night, maybe we should just go to sleep?"

Florence continued to look at her, her heart beating out of her chest. "Why am I not enough for you, Isa? Why do we do this when we're sad and single and never talk about what it could actually mean?"

Isa sighed, shocked that Florence didn't jump at the chance to just drop it. "First of all, you're drunk and confused, second of all, you're a still a child, third of all, _we_ would never work, and fourth of all, I don't date straight girls, _especially_ straight girls who also happen to be my best friend."  
And with that, Florence kicked her way out of the covers and threw her clothes back on, not caring if her dress was on forwards or backwards.

"Florence, what are you doing?"

"I can't do this with you anymore," Florence said before picking up her heels and clutch and walking towards the door. She momentarily struggled to figure out which way to open it before finally succeeding and slamming it shut behind her.

  
Isa sat up in the bed stunned for a moment. _Is Florence going through the same feelings I once had? Fuck, what is happening? Could we work?_ Isa sat with her mind racing about a thousand miles an hour for a good amount of time before ultimately convincing herself that they were both drunk and confused and overreacting to the recent breakup with Stuart.

Meanwhile, Florence walked down the hallway, praying to whatever God there was above that Isa would believe that she was drunk the next morning, even though she had said nothing but the truth of what she felt. Florence was hurt that Isa so immediately thought that she was joking, and then so easily dismissed what she had said when she said it a _second_ time. Sure, it was spur of the moment and she had never expressed wanting anything more than a casual hookup before, but she expected more of a conversation than _that_.

That night, Florence cried herself to sleep in a strange, lonely city, wanting nothing more than to disappear and never see the light of day again.

The next morning, she met Isa in the lobby for a coffee run, just like they did every morning on the road.  
"God, last night was a blur, I don't remember a thing," she said pulling her sunglasses over her eyes as they walked out into a bright November morning.

"Neither do I," Isa agreed with a laugh. "Must've been a good night."

  
Somehow, they both knew the other was lying, and not another word was ever said about that incident.

—

Florence is interrupted from her reminiscing by another cycle of marimba notes. She squeezes her eyes shut before flopping back down on the bed and answering. 

"Hello?"

  
"Hey Flo. How are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good. I just got up. How are you?"

  
"Good. I was actually just headed to Ayres, shall I bring you your usual?"

—

Twenty minutes later and Isa is at Florence's front door, a warm blueberry scone in hand. "Well good morning beautiful," Isa says half-jokingly at the sight of Florence still in pyjamas and messy hair. Florence smiles softly as she rolls her eyes.

"Good morning, get in here!" she says, the cold morning air flowing into her small house. 

They make their way to the kitchen table and Isa sets down the various pastries she has on the table. She takes off her jacket and throws it over a chair before going over to Florence and enveloping her in a hug. She is once again struck by how thin and pale Florence looks, and her chest becomes tight with worry.

"It's good to see you my dear, how are you holding up?" Isa says, rubbing her hand over Florence's bony back.

"I'm alright," Florence replies. "Happy to see you," she says, a weird mix of relief and awkwardness washing over her with Isa's presence in her house. She can't even remember the last time Isa was over.

Isa goes to pull away from the hug, and something sharp snags at her thin shirt and pokes her skin. "Ow, what is that?" she questions, pulling at the sharp corner of paper coming out from Flo's silk waistband. In a blur of a second, Isa gasps and Flo is left at a loss for words.

"Oh my god," Isa says with a hand over her mouth, looking back and forth between the grainy black and white image in her hand and Florence's light green eyes.

"Ehm," Florence says awkwardly, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet. "I guess now's a good time to tell you that if all goes to plan, you're going to be an auntie, I suppose?"

"Florence," Isa says breathlessly, forcefully going in for a second hug. She grips Florence tight, the side of her head resting on Florence's shoulder as she continues to study the photo out of the corner of her eye. " _God_ , I had no idea Flo, why didn't you tell me this is what you wanted? I didn't even think—"

"I don't think _I_ knew what I wanted," Florence replies earnestly. "You weren't supposed to see that until we talked," she continues quietly, her chin resting on top of Isa's head.

Isa pulls back from the hug, only so she can fully study the picture again. A small smile creeps onto her lips. She lightly kisses the photo before taking Florence's hand and leading her to the couch just beyond the kitchen.

"You sit here, I'll be right back," Isa says, returning a few minutes later with two cups of peppermint tea and Florence's scone on a small plate.

"Thank you," Florence says as Isa hands the tea to her. Isa sits next to Florence, curling her knees up to her chest and leaning against the back cushions of the couch like a small child.

"I have so many questions," Isa begins, "but I guess first and foremost, how are you feeling about this? Like, just in general?"

Florence purses her lips and stares off into space for a moment, carefully looking for the words to describe her current state of mind. "Honestly?" she begins, "It's like I'm scared shitless one moment and really happy the next. I dunno, I haven't had much time to think." Isa nods in the pause of silence, encouraging Florence to continue. "I guess it just feels right? Even though it also seems just so entirely wrong at the moment."

"No choice you make about your body or your life is ever wrong, Flo," Isa says gently, searching for the right words.

"I know," Florence says, Isa's words affirming her decision. "I just have so many things to figure out."

They spend the next four hours talking about the tour, and Florence's plans come November, and how weird babies are, and then they finally reach the subject that has been weighing on both their minds.

"God, when did things get weird between us, Iz?" Florence asks, her head resting on Isa's shoulder. Isa's grip around Florence tightens. They both know there are two distinct answers to that question, but they don't dare mention the first.

"I dunno, I think I got a bit lost in everything else and distanced myself, and I'm really sorry. Like, I feel like a real dick that it took something dramatic to snap me out of it," Isa says, looking straight at the wall in front of them as she comfortingly runs her hand up and down Florence's arm.

"No, you don't need to apologize for that, never," Florence says firmly. "I should have been checking in on you more often, you've been working yourself sick."

They both sit in the silence, soaking it in. They knew that neither of them was in the wrong, that sometimes people just grow apart and that they are no exception.

Florence is the next to speak. "So, can we just go back to being young, stupid kids again? No more analyzing where we went wrong? I miss you, I miss us, and _someone_ is going to have to bring me takeaway 24/7 for the next seven months."

Isa laughs and smiles before planting a kiss on top of Florence's head. "Florrible and Misrabella now and forever," she says as Florence bursts into a raucous fit of laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo I kinda decided to scrap everything I have and make this a straight up Florabella fic... oops. Updates are going to be slower than I wanted since I have to rewrite a lot. Hopefully that will make this a little bit more interesting. Please leave comments, I love reading them! Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

A month of appointments and puking and laughing and crying and laughing some more passes and Florence finds herself at her dining table surrounded by her band, biting at her thumbnail as Rob finishes up making a pasta dish in the kitchen. It smells of lemon and rosemary, and her head spins as she tries to decide how this conversation should go. She doesn't notice Isa sitting in the chair next to her until there is a gentle squeeze of her hand under the table.

"It's going to be alright, I got you," she says gently, the background noise of chatter, laughing, and dishes clanking together covering up their quiet conversation.

"I'm nervous," Florence replies, her hair draped over the casual cotton dress she had put on for the occasion. "I don't know what to say."

  
"You just tell them Flo. We've talked it over a million times now. And if you don't know what to say Rob or I can always jump in. Relax," she says, baring her eyes into Florence's as a sign of reassurance.

Florence exhales as Isa caresses her hand one last time before getting up to help Rob dish out the pasta. She had played how this was about to go over and over in her head until it made her feel ill, and now that the moment was here, she was unsure of if she was going to be able to do it. After drafting tons of emails and text messages, she had decided that it was probably best to break the news in person, but now she needed to follow through on it. Before they left for America.

Tomorrow.

Once they had all settled down, eaten a good amount, chatted about pleasantries, and caught up on what they had all done during the break, Isa speaks up.

  
"So, I think Florence has something she wants to tell you all before we break out the dessert," she says, giving Florence an easy way in after noticing she went the whole meal without so much as a word.

Florence's eyes widen as she looks at Isa, a slight look of terror on her face. She starts turning a pale shade of red that is not unlike the hair laid across her shoulders.

"Ehm, yeah, I wanted to tell you all that, um, I—I've written a few songs that I'd love to start writing parts for if anyone wants to work on them with me once we get on the road."

The statement is met with slight confusion from everyone, as it is clear Florence came up with it on the fly. They all mumble "yeah"s and "that's great"s as silverware resumes its clattering.

Florence looks to Isa and mouths, "I can't do this," as she gets up to put her plate away.

Isa follows her into the kitchen, and then leads her towards the bathroom before shutting the door behind them.

"I can't do this," Florence says in a panic, wrapping her face between her hands. She closes her eyes as her breathing begins to quicken.

  
"Flo—Florence, you need to look at me. Hey, hey, slow down." Isa forcefully wraps herself around Florence and rubs her back firmly and slowly. "Shh, you're okay, relax, relax Flo."

"I just—I can't do it," Florence says again as the door creaks open.

"Hey, what's going on Flo?" Rob says as he slides in.

"She's all nerves," Isa responds for her.

"Hey, you're okay," Rob says, gently stroking her hair as Isa continues to hold her. Isa looks him in the eye and her facial expression changes to a grimace as she shakes her head slightly, as if to say "This isn't going to work," without Florence hearing her. Rob bites his lip as he tries to think of the right words to say.

At this point, Florence is nearly hyperventilating and Isa sits her down on the closed toilet lid before crouching down in front of her with Rob. Rob feels a strange sense of déjà vu as he begins to speak.

  
"What do you want to do here Flo? It's all up to you. I think you are right in thinking that they should all know what's going on before we leave, but I get that this is probably really nerve wracking for you. Do you think Isa or I should tell them? Or maybe you could try writing them a note again? What do you think?" he offers up softly as he puts a hand on her knee.

"You tell them," she says quietly.

"Now?"

  
Florence nods her head, and Isa looks Rob in the eye before hesitantly nodding in agreement.

—

For as long as he had known her, Rob never knew what to think of Florence Welch. When they met, she was a bright-haired 20-year-old in a band called "Florrible and Misrabella" who could never finish even one complete sentence, always ready to rush on to whatever was next in front of her. He played a few gigs with her, and soon enough, they became friends and Florence had invited him to play bigger shows and record on her album.

He was always so amazed by her musicality. She knew next to nothing about composing and theory, and yet she would pull him aside, hum the individual notes of a chord until Rob got in right, clap the exact rhythm she wanted, and then laugh with delight once the music in her head would finally come to fruition. Her ability to come up with unique compositions was unparalleled, and she often made Rob feel like his extensive music education was entirely useless.

In the early days, Rob liked her. A _lot_. He would make subtle moves but she never showed any interest back, and he would watch her bounce from older boyfriend to older boyfriend. Eventually, Rob got the message and any feelings he had for her were replaced by a fierce and loyal protection for the younger girl, much like that of an older brother.

It was funny how easily Rob and Isa slipped into the role of protectors of Florence, who were four and six years older than her. And in the same sense, Florence would keep things light for them whenever things got heavy.

Like the night that Isa came out to the two of them. A night that still confused Rob to this day.

They were at a house party in London with a bunch of guys from the recording studio they were working at. It was low key enough, but Isa sat on a lone couch in the corner looking miserable the whole time. Rob had only known Isa and Florence for about a year, but he was as close to them as he was any of his other friends.

"What's up?" he said as he flopped down beside Isa on the couch, a beer in hand. "You need to start drinking, you look sad," he said, offering her the drink.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not in the mood," she said in reply, her blue eyes looking more tired than usual.

"Okay," he said, taking the first sip out of the bottle. "Do you want to talk about anything?" he asked.

Isa paused, thinking about how sweet, innocent Rob might be able to make her feel better about her mess of a life.

"Ehm, maybe?" she replied hesitantly.

"Okay yeah, let's go," Rob said, helping her up from the couch.

They went outside to the garden behind the house, the music coming from inside loud enough to drown out the sound of their conversation. Isa was dead sober, but the flood of emotions that day had made her stop caring about what anyone thought of her. Her dark brown hair was tied back, and her eyes that were normally surrounded by dark black eyeliner were bare.

"So what's going on?" Rob asked, his soft face making Isa feel even braver yet.

She paused briefly before speaking. _Well, here we go_ she thought. "I'm going through a breakup, and I'm not doing so well with it," Isa said, a tightness developing in her chest.

  
"Oh," Rob said softly, putting the drink down on a nearby table as the bassline of a Blink 182 song shook the entire house. "I'm so sorry to hear that, I had no idea that you seeing someone."

  
Isa nodded. "Yeah, ehm, I didn't really tell anyone about it actually," Isa said, trying to arrange her next words correctly. "It was kind of different from all my previous relationships."

  
"And how's that?" Rob said without missing a beat.

  
Isa swore she could feel her heart stop in her chest. Even though she knew Rob would be absolutely fine with it all, the words still made her feel physically ill.

"It was with um... it was with a girl," she said, her voice fading to a shaky whisper.

Rob wasn't exactly surprised by the statement; he had watched how Isa looked at Florence on a daily basis, and how she would pay little attention to guys that would flock to her at bars and parties. He was more surprised that she had a secret relationship that he and Florence had no clue about. It hurt him to think that Isa felt like she needed to keep it hidden in the first place. "Oh, Isa," he said as she began to softly cry. He wrapped his arms around the much shorter girl, and held her tight as tears fell onto his chest.

Isa felt stupid, a nearly 27-year-old afraid to come out to her close friends. Except, it wasn't really the coming out that she was afraid of. It was more the fact that some part of her was longing to tell another soul about her feelings for Florence— _that_ was entirely terrifying. Forget the fact that she had gone and gotten a girlfriend to attempt to deal with her feelings, and that said girlfriend promptly broke up with her once she came to the realization that the blonde was more concerned about her red-headed friend than her. That was a rough blow, but not as much as harboring her feelings for Florence was starting to become.

"Do you want me to get Florence?" Rob whispered into Isa's ear quietly as they stood in the cool June night.

Isa pulled away and laughed lightly at the irony of Rob's question before her face twisted into a sad state again, tears welling in her bloodshot blue eyes.

  
And without Isa saying a word, Rob knew exactly what was on his friend's mind as she bit her lip and looked to the sky. His mind spun, thinking of every time Florence and Isa would hold hands, or kiss each other's cheeks, or sleep in the same bed.

"Oh," he said, the sound barely escaping his mouth. Isa nodded slightly, as if to confirm that what he was thinking was exactly right. He gently grabbed her hand, and led her further into the garden where a small bench was. He sat her down and then sat down right next her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as she continued to cry.

"Have you talked to her about this at all? Have you talked to anyone?" he asked calmly after a few moments.  
Isa bit her cheek as she searched for an answer.

"Honestly? No. I haven't told anyone. Not even Flo. But she'll kiss me. She first kissed me after our first gig, the one that was like a month before we met you, and she acted so casual about it. Like, it was no big deal to her at all. She'll kiss me and in the moment it feels like it means something, and then she's off snogging and falling in love with some random guy like five minutes later. And I'm just so _fucking_ sick of it. It hurts, this fucking _hurts_ ," she said with a brutal honesty. She nervously looked over to Rob to see if she could gather what he was thinking.

"You know, I always thought you two had something going on," he said as Isa shakily exhaled. They sat in silence for a moment as Rob tried to think of some advice or something comforting he could say to his friend. He couldn't come up with anything. "I'm really sorry Isa, you know I'm always here for you."

Isa nodded as she sniffled and wiped under her eyes. "Thank you," she said, turning to give Rob a proper hug.

Not a second later, Isa could hear a door creak open, and through the darkness she could see Florence's thin figure skipping over to where she and Rob sat.

  
"What are you doing out here?!" Florence loudly asked, a stupid, drunk smile on her young face that was covered in glitter. "Come on, everyone's in there—" Florence stopped in her tracks upon seeing Isa's tear-filled eyes. "Oh, no, what's happened?" she said, rushing over to crouch in front of Isa before grabbing her hands in hers.  
Rob stepped in to answer. "She's had a bit of a long da—"

"I think I like girls, Flo," Isa interrupted. Isa held her breath as the three of them sat in silence for a moment, only basslines and cars rushing past filling the air.

Florence looked to Rob, trying to gather where this was coming from before looking back at Isa's dejected face. "Okay, what's the problem with that? Why the tears love?" Florence asked gently, rubbing her hand on Isa's bare knee.

Isa could only manage to shrug her shoulders before tears started to fall again. _There are so, SO many problems with that, and you are the first of them_ she thought as she stared into Florence's green eyes. She decided to be half truthful with Florence when answering her questions.

"I mean, you know my family, they're not exactly going to be okay with this, and I feel like I'm way too old to just now be discovering this," she said, her voice cracking with each word. "It's just a really weird time, I guess," she said, trailing off.

Florence pulled her up from the bench and wrapped her long, bony arms around Isa's neck. She could feel Isa shaking under her fingers, and tears welled in her own eyes as she thought about what Isa must be feeling. In Florence's mind, Isa was old and wise, and always had all her shit together. She could have never pictured Isa in such a vulnerable state before that moment.

Rob watched the two of them embrace from a few feet away, and bit his lip at the all of the information he was now privy to. _It's going to be a long year_ he thought to himself as he watched Florence—young, sweet, naive Florence _—_ kiss Isa on the head.

—

Rob nervously cracks his knuckles as he returns to the dining table, unsure of what he should say. _Florence is with child; Florence is expecting; Florence isn't well_ —the list could go on for hours. He clears his throat, and everyone turns to look at him. Tom looks at the wall, already knowing exactly what is happening. "So, ehm, I guess I should start with—um, Flo and Isa left because Florence isn't feeling so well—that's actually what she wanted to talk with you all about," Rob says with a sense of seriousness.

  
"Oh no," Dionne says, her eyes widening. She thinks about all the times she noticed Florence looking sickly towards the end of the last leg. They had all been so worried about her, but figured she would have said something if something was seriously wrong. "Is everything okay?" she asks earnestly, the rest of the crew quickly joining in with questions.

"She's fine actually," Rob says, looking down and studying the tattoos on his hands. "She really wanted to tell you all herself, but she's, um, she's having a really hard time with it." A hushed silence comes over the group. Rob takes a deep breath before beginning his next sentence. "She's almost three months pregnant, and to be honest, she's nervous as hell about this tour and everything. She has a plan, and that will all be broken down and sent to all of you in the next few days, but um, yeah," he trails off, looking up to see any signs of reaction from anyone. He is met with empty stares, and he can swear he actually feel the silence. He hears a door open, and a moment later Florence is back with Isa, and then everyone is just silently staring at each other.

The sound of a chair moving across the floor interrupts the silence, and then Aku is up and moving towards Florence. Isa steps back as he wraps her in a big, genuine hug.

"Congrats Flo," he says a smile on his face. "I'm so happy for you." Rob can see a small smile from Florence from across the room, and soon enough, everyone is up, joining in on the hug. There are whispers of "congratulations" and "I’m here for you"s and "I love you"s, and Isa leaves Florence's side to walk over and hug Rob, both of them finally feeling somewhat relieved of the burden of carrying Florence's secret themselves.  
"She's gonna be alright," Rob says, watching Florence walk around and hug each person individually.

Isa holds onto his waist a bit tighter as she continues to carefully observe Florence's timid smile. "I hope so."

—

_My Dearest Little One,_

_Right now you are a whole eleven weeks old. Eleven! Dr. Singh told me you are the size of a big strawberry, and now I've had Strawberry Fields Forever stuck in my head for the last week. So thanks for that. Yesterday I told all your aunties and uncles about you, they are so excited to meet you. To be honest, I didn't think I would be able to tell them. Well, technically I didn't, your Uncle Rob did, but we got through it. Now I just have to tell your grandparents and your real aunties and uncles. Auntie Grace is on it._

_Dr. Singh wasn't so happy about us going on tour. But who knows, maybe this is the last one, so I'm glad you'll get to be a part of it. She gave me a list of doctors in the U.S. that I'm going to go see to make sure you're okay while we're gone. I can't wait for you to learn about music, and to sing with me. I'm so excited about so many things we're going to do. It's like, this whole thing is so fucking scary, but you are the one thing keeping me sane. Am I allowed to say fuck in this journal? I don't know, hopefully you'll be old enough to fucking handle the word fucking by the time I give this to you._

_One day you'll learn about this about me yourself, but I have this weird habit of writing things that make no sense, and then one day, something happens and suddenly random words start making total sense. I wrote an entire album of music that was really personal and completely terrifying, and for some odd reason I named it High as Hope. It was a line from a poem that I wrote in New York, and it didn't make any sense because most of those songs scared me. But then you came along, and now I get it. I made a lot of bad decisions when I was younger (don't worry, I'm not going to let you make those), and put a lot of things in my body that had no place being there. And the thing is, none of those things made me feel quite as high as you do. You are my hope for a new and better life, and these songs are holding me like I will one day hold you._

_Right now I'm on a plane to Arizona, and we're going to spend a week just getting settled before the shows start again. Auntie Isa is force feeding me vitamins, so one day when you're some Olympic athlete, you'll have her to tha—_

"What about Auntie Isa now?" Isa asks before sitting in the open seat next to Florence on the plane, offering her a pretzel out of a newly opened bag.

"Nothing," Florence says, quickly shutting the leather journal shut. Florence grabs an entire handful before tossing the journal into her bag, and leaning back into the seat.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright, I haven't been sick in a few days, knock on wood," she says, tapping the fake hardwood floor of the jet with her heel.

"Mm, that's good to hear," Isa says, biting into a pretzel.

Florence nods, and quietly slips into a train of thoughts and worries as she looks out at the puffy clouds above the Pacific. As if on cue, Isa grabs her hand as she begins to think about all the things that could go wrong over the next few weeks. Florence looks over, and Isa has her headphones in with her eyes closed as she strokes the back of Florence's hand with her thumb. Florence quickly follows suit and falls asleep, and the next time her eyes open, they are on the ground in Arizona.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter! Can someone tell me if the flashbacks going out of chronological order makes sense or if they're confusing? I feel like they're starting to get confusing and mess with the story line (oops). Sorry this is a short chapter, I'm having to go back and add flashbacks and what not to try to fill in the new plot line I'm trying out. To make up for it, here is a cute vid of baby Florence and Isa from 2008 that I found while trying to find anything about Isa (spoiler alert—there is literally nothing about her personal life or background aside from stuff relating to music on the internet) but look at how cute at 1:30, ugh. Kind of odd to think this would be around the time that all the flashbacks in this story are happening. Anyway, enjoy! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VviAX2b_AGk
> 
> OH ALSO I made a tumblr, @alwaysdowntohidewithyou, its empty rn but feel free to follow me and chat on there!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: brief discussion about an eating disorder, nothing graphic

"Hey Flo, sorry to wake you up, but ehm—Mum's literally booking a plane as we speak."

  
Florence squeezes her eyes shut before rolling over to face the clock with a groan. She had finally managed to fall asleep, and now Grace was calling her at the ungodly hour of 6 in the morning. She momentarily forgets where she is before she smells the scent of freshly washed linen and sees just the slightest ray of light beaming in from in between two unfamiliar curtains.

"Flo? Anything? Hello?"

"Mm, what do you want Gracie?" Florence says groggily as she puts her face into the pillow, tossing her phone just beside her face.

"Mum, she's on her way to Arizona Flo. Can you hear me?" Grace asks, almost annoyed.

Florence's mind jolts awake all at once. "What?"

"I told her. And now she's on her way to the states. Like, _today."_

"What the fuck," Florence whispers, just barely audible. Her voice is still raspy with sleep as she swings her legs over the side of her bed. She rubs her face with her free hand, willing herself to enter the waking world.

"Yeah, she was, ehm, not entirely happy about everything."

"Define 'not happy'."

"I mean, kind of along the same lines of 'not happy' like when you went and put out 'Hunger' without talking to her first... like, _'concerned_ -not-happy' ya know?"

Florence groans again. "Fuck, is there any way you can get out here? Like, I'll pay for your ticket and everything."

"Do you think I haven't already thought about doing that? I'm so sorry Flo, but I just can't. I have work and Bonnie and a million other things going on around here, you know I would be there if I could."

Florence throws herself back onto the bed. " _Fuck_ ," she says again, louder this time as she thinks about facing her mother today.

"Yep," Grace sighs.

"Alright, well, try to keep me updated? Just let me know what she's doing, I'm trying to avoid surprises today."

"Of course. I've got to get back to work. I love you," Grace says through the phone.

"Yeah, love you too," Florence says before hanging up and screaming into a pillow.

—

Florence is woken up again around 10 by a knocking at the door. She rubs her eyes and trots to the door, and is met with Rob carrying a giant bouquet of flowers. His tattoos peek out from under a plain white t-shirt, and sunglasses sit perched on his head. "Well good morning sunshine," he says, eyeing Florence up and down, noticing her wrinkled plus-size t-shirt that she had been using as a night-gown, and her hair that looked like it had been put through a wind tunnel.

"Oh fuck off," she says in reply, half-jokingly. "Who are those for?"

"They're for you, I think this might be the most depressing hotel we've been in yet and I don't want my nephew coming out all gloom and doom like his mother because she sits in dark, white hotel rooms all day."

Rob holds his breath, his statement a bold move considering Florence's emotional state over the past few weeks. But Florence cheekily cocks an eyebrow, firstly because Rob was confident enough to joke about something she had been extremely sensitive about up until now, and secondly because he had the _audacity_ to think that this alien child inside of her is a boy.

"A nephew, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm literally constantly surrounded by girls between my sisters and your sister and you and Isa, the nice man above wouldn't dare put another girl down here."  
Florence laughs. "Well now's not a good time to tell you I have a hunch it's a girl then, is it?"

Rob gives Florence a toothy grin in return. "Honestly, I don't even care what it is, but for the love of god can we put these on the table and maybe crack open some blinds?"

A few minutes later and the windows are open, flowers are spread in tiny vases throughout the room, and Florence's decorative throws are strewn about the space.

Rob and Florence lay on their backs on her bed, staring at the ceiling. "My mum is coming in later," Florence says, turning her head towards Rob, her light red hair moving across the pillow.

"Oof, I'm assuming that's not a good thing?"

Florence shakes her head. "Probably not. Grace said it didn't go over so well when she told her."

"To be fair, you seem to have a habit of not telling your mother about things until it is too late for her to do anything about them."

Florence sighs because Rob is right. She thinks back to the conversation she had with her mother nearly a year ago, two days after she released that infamous song that she probably shouldn't have without running it by Evelyn first.

"So, about this new song—" her mother had begun that day.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Florence said, almost defensively over lunch at a quiet café not far from the university Evelyn taught at.

"You're sorry you didn't tell me what, about the lyric or the fact that you apparently starved yourself without telling me about it?" she said in a loud whisper.

Florence gulped and a knot began forming in her throat. "Both?"

Evelyn shook her head. "Florence, why did I have no idea about this? Did _anyone_ have a clue about this?"

Florence squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand on her forehead. "Can we talk about this later, somewhere more private perhaps?"

"Sure, what's another few hours when we've gone more than a decade without discussing this anyway," Evelyn said before looking down at her watch and hurrying out the door without another word.

Hours later, Evelyn walked through the open door of Florence's home and immediately took a seat on the couch next to her before placing a hand on her knee.

"Florence, I'm sorry I was being short earlier. I just—I wasn't expecting that. It's a beautiful song, and I want you to know that, and I'm so proud of you. I just—I want to understand what that lyric means," she said softly. "Do you realize how jarring it is, as a mother, to hear your beautiful, perfect daughter sing about how she starved herself?" A tear rolled down Evelyn's cheek as she studied Florence's face and smoothed a piece of hair behind her ear.

Florence began crying as she searched for the right words. She still felt defensive after their first attempt at discussing the song. "I want you to know this song was a poem that I had no intention of ever leaving my journal," she started hesitantly. "I had anorexia. I mean, it's as simple as that." In the moment, she felt stupid for crying; she felt like she was back to being an anxious 12 year old girl telling her mother about something bad she had done in school before the teacher had a chance to call, even though in reality she was 31 years old and well established on her own.

"How did you know?"

Florence's chest tightened as she thought about all the stupid things she would do as a teen and a young twenty-something. She decided to omit the worst of it for her mother. "I mean, I would go a couple days at a time without eating. I, um, I would weigh myself like, three times a day maybe? And that lasted until a couple of years ago. I was down to eight-stone-even at one point," she said, biting her lip and looking her mother in the eye. "That's when Grace forced me to go to an outpatient rehab, and I got diagnosed and got help." Florence chewed on her cheek as she waited for a response from her mother.

"Florence," Evelyn began gently, not really knowing where to go from there. "I had no idea."

"It's really not your fault. You were never home to notice anything different. I was old enough to be taking care of myself, that wasn't your job."

"I know," Evelyn said, clasping her daughter’s hands in her own. "I just wish I could've done something."

Then they were both crying, and Evelyn had her arms wrapped tightly around her oldest daughter. "Are you okay now? How are you doing?"

Florence pulled away and wiped the tears from under her own eyes.

"I mean, I don't know that I'll ever be fully okay, but I haven't weighed myself in three years or so—I'm doing a lot better."

Evelyn smiled slightly as another tear escaped from under her glasses. "I hope you know I meant it when I said I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, I know."

And then Florence went and helped her make dinner, and not another word was ever spoken about it, which was pretty typical for the way her mother handled traumatic events.

Florence snaps back to the reality of her warm, Arizona hotel room when she feels a hand interlock with her own.

"Where are you, Flo?" Rob says with a squeeze of her hand.

"Getting lost in thoughts again," Florence replies matter-of-factly, thankful for Rob's presence. 

"It'll be okay, your mum always comes to terms with everything you do."

Florence nods. "I kind of wish I had told her myself."

Rob quickly dismisses her thought. "You have every right to have other people help you out. Not a lot of people go through this alone, you don't need to be doing everything yourself," he says, turning his head to look Florence in the eye.

Florence nods in subtle agreement.

"Speaking of which," Rob says, turning his eyes back toward the ceiling, "I've noticed you and Isa have gotten closer again. What happened there?" Rob asks, referring to the fact that Isa had practically moved into Florence's house to take care of her during the break. They had been nearly inseparable for the past month—it seemed that every time Rob would stop over to check in or drop off food, the two of them would be cuddled together on the couch watching stupid, funny videos on their phones or listening to an old record. He recalls the day he stopped over to spend time with Florence, Isa mysteriously absent, only for Isa to barge through the door with bags and bags of pretzels along with what seemed like fifty bottles of vitamins.

"What," Isa had said as Rob and Florence eyed the many bottles. "You and this child can't live off pretzels for the next seven months."

"Yeah, ehm, we had a long talk when we got back," Florence says as she looks out the window, thinking back to the day Isa found the ultrasound picture herself before Flo even had a chance to slowly break it to her that she was going to keep the baby. "I really don't know why we ever grew apart, but I'm really glad to be back to our old selves. I think music kind of just got the best of us." Florence says, quietly trailing off and hoping it is enough to satisfy Rob.

"Yeah, I had noticed that you two were...different, for a while there. I had been wondering if anything had happened," Rob says, gently prying for information.

Florence sighs. "No, nothing happened. We just grew up and apart."

The two sit in silence for a few minutes again, just staring at the ceiling, hand in hand.

"Can I ask you something really bluntly? Just between the two of us?"

This time, Florence turns her entire body around to face Rob, and he does the same. They both lay on their sides as Florence nods her head. "Of course," she says with a seriousness on her face.

Rob bites his lip, hoping his innocent question won't make anything weird. _Probably not, they were definitely hooking up that night in L.A_., he thinks, remembering the one time, probably close to nine or ten years ago now, that he heard Isa distinctly moaning Florence's name interlaced with expletives at three in the morning in the shoddy hotel they were staying at. _And surely if they have hooked up before_ , he continues rationalizing in his head, _Florence is at least somewhat aware of how Isa used to feel about her_. "That night that Isa came out at that party," he says before taking a deep breath, "did she ever tell you why she was so upset?"

Florence purses her lips, trying to remember the details of that night that was so long ago. She only remembers the tiny house that reeked of booze and seeing Isa crying next to Rob on a tiny concrete garden bench. "I don't know," she says. Rob can see the gears turning in her head as she tries to recall the details of that conversation. "I mean, she was really scared, right? And I think she told me a bit later that she had actually just been through a breakup with her first girlfriend."

Rob nods his head, unsure if he should be the one to make the great reveal. He ponders it for a few moments, before realizing that it is nearly 12 years later and that it probably wouldn't even matter.

"Did she ever happen tell you that she was upset because of _you_?" he asks gently.

Florence scoffs in disbelief. "No, she didn't. Why would you think that?"

"Because that's why she was so upset. It was about you Flo. That's what we were talking about before you got out there."

"No it _wasn't_. She has literally, explicitly told me that she would never love me like that before."

And then it's all out in the open, and Florence can see the subtle shock in Rob's eyes as memories start flooding back. She tries to remember the timeline of their friendship. Isa came out in their first year as a band, so Florence was 20ish, and then _that_ incident happened when their first SNL was taped, so Florence was 25, and—

Oh.

 _Oh_.

 _She_ did _like me at one point,_ Florence thinks, the hard realization finally coming to the forefront of her mind. She realizes that by the time she had formed any feelings for the blonde, Isa had already stopped feeling that way towards Florence herself. The window that could have changed things just barely didn't happen.

"Flo? Earth to Flo?" Rob says as he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Are you telling me—"

She starts talking in order to cut Rob off in his tracks, unwilling to let him in on any more information. "I mean, yeah, but I was never serious about it," she blatantly lies. Florence continues to softly, nervously laugh as she studies Rob's stoic expression. Her laughing comes to an end as she gently asks, "Was _she_ being serious about it?"

—

"Florence," Evelyn says as she enters the threshold of Florence's hotel room much later that night. She hugs Florence tight, gripping the back of her neck with one hand while running her other hand up and down her daughter's back. Isa mouths _I'm sorry_ as soon as Florence makes eye contact with her from behind her mother's shoulder. _I'm going to kill you_ , Florence mouths back before audibly saying "Hi, mum."

"Well I'm going to go off to my room now, Flo, text me if you need anything," she says, her eye contact wordlessly adding, _text me if you need to get away from your mother._

"God, what am I going to do with you?" Evelyn asks as she takes a seat at the desk across from Florence's bed. Florence sits at the head of the bed, her chin resting on her knees. She shrugs in response.

"I can figure this out," she says, tucking her knees into her oversized t-shirt as she mindlessly twirls a loose piece of hair above her ear.  
Evelyn bites her lip. "Florence, honey, this isn't something you can 'figure out'. You don't belong in the states. You don't need to be touring right now," she says as she gets up to join Florence on the bed. "You need to come home. What if something happens?"

"You say that like I haven't thought this out a thousand times over," Florence scoffs. She shakes her head and stares down at the white linen as she feels herself becoming angry. "I'm pretty sure you weren't showing up to Grace's work to tell her to go home when you found out she was pregnant." Florence's sudden temperament makes feels like she is sixteen again, showing up an hour past her curfew and arguing with her mum as soon as she walked in the door at half past midnight.

"I'm also pretty sure Grace was working a real job, and had a real husband," Evelyn retorts back. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she instantly regrets them. "I didn't mean it like that."

Florence bites on her lip so hard she thinks it might start bleeding. "Please, just get out."

"Florence, I'm so—"

"I really don't feel like talking right now." A tear escapes Florence's eye. She had been so sure of herself up until this very moment. "Please go. I'm really not feeling good. We can try talking again tomorrow. Maybe you can think of a better way of phrasing your concern."

"Florence, I'm really sorry." Florence simply nods her head.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Florence says coldly as she walks toward the door and watches her mother disappear down the hall.

_From Florence, 22:48: Can you come over?_

_From Isa, 22:48: Well that was quick_

_From Isa, 22:49: I'll be right there x_

A few minutes later, and Isa is at the door, a fresh bag of pretzels in hand. "Thought you might be wanting more of these by now," she says, showing herself into the room. She puts down the bag and then gives Florence a tight, bone-crushing hug, raising herself up onto her tip toes in order to somewhat even herself out with the younger girl. "Everything okay?"

Florence shakes her head. "She said something she didn't mean, I think she's in a bit of shock," Florence says, almost defending her mother. "I told her we could talk tomorrow."

"That's fair," Isa responds. "For both of you. She needs some time, and you deserve to have nothing but full support right now." Florence nods her head in agreement.

"Can you stay here tonight?"

"Of course."

An hour later they are in bed, Isa spooning Florence under the covers like they used to do so often. Florence feels a little uneasy given the revelation from Rob earlier that day, but chooses not to question it, as she feels more at peace than she has in days.

Isa has an arm loosely draped around Florence's waist, and she can swear that she can feel the tiniest of bumps across Florence's lower stomach. "Flo," she asks quietly, the room silent except for the gentle hum of the air conditioner. "Has your stomach always curved like that at the bottom?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Ehm, I don't think so," she says, taking in the moment and realizing how _real_ this all is. "I think I might be starting to show just a little," Florence adds in a whisper, her hand floating just above Isa's. Isa smiles at Florence's touch, and bravely presses a kiss into the side of Florence's neck as they lay in silence, gently caressing the slightest protrusion of Florence's stomach through her thin t-shirt.

—

The next morning, Evelyn comes back to the hotel, a box of pastries and a card in hand. She thinks back to how wild Florence was as a young child—well, as a person, really—and then says a tiny little prayer that her grandchild would be different, for Florence's sake. This time when she knocks on Florence's door, sans Isa, she is met with a calmer looking face. "Hello," Florence says softly. "I'm sorry I was so moody yesterday," she adds, taking the box out of her mother's hands.

"No, I'm sorry that I acted the way I did. And I am so sorry for what I said. I'm just really worried about you, and I hope you can understand that."

Florence smiles and nods. "I can, yeah." Her hair is pulled into a neat braided up-do, and she is wearing a silk blouse that Evelyn had bought her last Christmas with a pair of printed shorts and leather loafers. The adult in front of Evelyn looks like a far cry from the girl she saw last night, the girl that reminded her so much of Florence in her teenage years. "How was your flight here?"

"It was long," Evelyn says, "but I would have just been sitting at home anyway. How are you? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Florence says. "I'm feeling much better than I was a few weeks ago."

"That's good," Evelyn says, a silence washing over them. She has yet to directly say anything to her daughter about her pregnancy, and she struggles to find words.

"Gracie told me you're almost at 12 weeks? That's when everything starts to get better."

Florence smiles slightly and nods in agreement. "Yeah, I've noticed that."

Evelyn sighs, and the two sit in silence for a moment before she speaks again. "I'm really, _really_ sorry for what I said yesterday, Florence. That was completely inexcusable."

Florence simply shakes her head, feeling much lighter than she did yesterday after spending some time with Isa. She walks over to her mother, sits down next to her, wraps her in a hug and kisses her on the cheek. "I really missed you, mum," she says, her voice shaking as her mother smooths her hand down her back like she used to when she was a child. She takes a deep breath. "How about we just forget about that conversation, and instead we can start talking about all the ridiculous outfits we are going to put this one and Bonnie in?"

—

That night, and the night after that, and the night after that, Florence finds herself going to bed with Isa. The feeling of Isa behind her feels like she is time traveling back to her younger years, a feeling of safety engulfing her with each of Isa's airy breaths on her neck. She can sense old feelings bubbling back up to her lungs and heart as their hands delicately trace the outline of her stomach each night, trying to remember the angle of every curve, of every new, tiny stretch mark.

The night before the first show, as Isa gently runs her fingers over Florence's bare skin, Florence thinks back to writing "Falling" in her head all those years ago, in this exact same arrangement.

 _This is a song for a scribbled-out name, and my love keeps writing again and again,_ she had sang in her head that night, thinking about the many poems she had wrote containing Isa's name, only to black them out with her pen out of fear of Isa seeing them. When they were in the studio writing the full song, she lied and said that it was Stuart's name she had blacked out during one of their many brief breakups. Isa didn't question it, and ironically, she was the one to help Florence finish the song. As Florence relaxes into sleep, she decides that tomorrow she would reintroduce that song to her set.

Florence wakes the next morning with Isa's hand still draped over her stomach. She carefully shifts her weight off the bed and walks to the bathroom before pulling up her shirt to study herself in the mirror. To anyone else, Florence's stomach wouldn't raise an eyebrow, only ever so slightly protruding more than usual.  
And yet, after the second song of the show later that night, she feels like the entire world can see her secret through her thin Gucci dress.

She begins talking about "Patricia," and she feels entirely exposed as the gigantic lens of one of the photographers in the front row takes yet another picture.

The lights blind her as Tom picks notes from the harp, and she begins feeling more and more uncomfortable with it all with each passing second. "This song is about a woman who is very close to my heart, and um, she—she told me—

_*click*_

"Can we stop taking pictures now?" Florence says suddenly, speaking directly to the one offender. Shocked by her own bluntness, she quickly diffuses her statement by saying, "I'm sorry, I'm not a very good...ehm, popstar." She nervously looks over to Isa as the journalists and photographers file out, and wishes that she had opted for a dress that wasn't entirely see through down to her underwear.

She gets through the next few songs without thinking about her stomach, and then comes to the point where she had thrown in "Falling" at the last possible second.

"Are you sure? We haven't played this in _literally_ years," Rob had said hesitantly before they went on stage.

"Yeah, it'll be fine, we'll remember it." Rob grimaced and then went over to Dionne to attempt to quickly teach her the violin part.

Florence begins talking. "So this song is about coming back to the same things and themes over and over again in my work," she says. "Things that don't always bode well for my general happiness, but ehm, it works well for songwriting." She gets a slight laugh out of the audience—they don't know that these "things" are in fact one particular person sitting not twenty feet away from them. She inhales before beginning to sing, and then promptly realizes she has no clue where to begin.

"Wait, hang on," she says confused. "How do we start this one again?" The audience laughs again as anxiety begins to take over. Rob tells her that there is an intro, and they quickly sort out how it goes before they start again. She gets through the song, her eyes closed the entire time. For a moment, she feels like the stupid, lovesick twenty-two-year-old she was when she originally wrote the song. She wonders if and when Isa would ever put two and two together and realize that this old song was about her.

—

"So Rob told me something kind of funny at lunch the other day," Isa says inconspicuously on the bus to California the next night. They had packed up the hotel from their week in Arizona and said their goodbyes to Evelyn (who cautiously agreed that it would probably be okay for Florence to continue on, as long as she was seeing doctors regularly) and were moving along to Santa Barbara where they would stay for two days. Isa had moved up to Florence's small bunk while the rest of the crew went off to get food, Rob promising to bring them back the sandwiches that they requested.

"Rob says a lot of funny things," Florence replies, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had occurred between Rob and Isa.

Isa laughs with a smirk on her face. "He told me that little, baby Florence might have at one point had a little crush on me," she says, almost tauntingly. For a brief, passing moment, Florence wonders if Isa actually _was_ too drunk to remember that night in New York.

In typical Florence fashion, she quickly fires back before she can truly process everything being said. "What makes you say that?"

"The fact that he told me those words left your mouth a few days ago," she replies with a slight laugh.  
Florence goes pale.

_"She was completely serious," Rob had said in Florence's hotel room, answering her simple question. "Why do you look so shocked?"  
_

_"Because maybe I lied about not being serious? Maybe I kind of liked her too?" Rob stopped prying after that, and quickly changed the subject._

"Okay, that was meant to be funny Flo," Isa says as Florence grows paler. It isn't a total lie, Isa thinks, because she had expected Florence to just laugh it off and find it hilarious like so many other stupid things she said and did when she was younger. But somewhere deep, deep in her heart, Isa knew that it was a serious subject that they probably should have discussed in an expensive New York hotel room about eight years ago. And the look on Florence's face only confirms that thought.

Florence's mind races, and she tries to come up with something to say back. Flashes of skin and lips and fingers running down stomachs fly through her mind, and the feelings she had felt bubbling up the past few weeks suddenly feel like they're going to burst.

"Well Rob told me something funny too," she says while thinking about how she was going to end his life upon his arrival back to the bus. She braces herself, knowing that she was about to hurt Isa with her words, even though Rob was the one to blame. "He told me that you were crying at that party at David's because you had a 'little crush' on _me_."

And then it's Isa's turn to go silent and pale. "He told you that?" Isa whispers. Florence nods her head, and the two of them sit back, both feeling betrayed by their friend. Neither of them try to refute anything said in the tiny bunk; they just sit in silence, letting the words soak into their skin.

Isa is the first to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "We were so _stupid_ ," she says incredulously as her eyes gaze toward the tiny light above them. "How did we miss this?"

Florence feels like a weight is pressing down on her chest as she musters up the courage to bring up that night in New York. She bites her cheek nervously, knowing that there would be no taking back her next statement.

"It's not like I hadn't tried to tell you before, Iz," she says quietly, wondering if Isa would even know what she was talking about.

She hears Isa inhale loudly and then slowly exhale as she looks out the small window beside her. "I was such a bitch to you that night, Flo," Isa says so quietly Florence can barely hear her. Florence starts biting her cheek harder, the revelation that they both indeed remembered that fateful night almost too much to bear.

They sit and listen to the engine of the bus fill the silence as street lights illuminate the small space from outside. And then she hears Isa gasp for air, and within a second, the blonde is softly crying, for what was lost, for what could have been, for her dear friend who she now _knew_ she had hurt so badly all those years ago. Florence turns to say something back to Isa, to tell her that it was okay, that she understood, that they could talk about something else.

Instead, she finds herself reaching for the side of Isa's head, running her fingers along her temple and through her hair before moving her head forward so their noses and lips gently touch.

Florence feels like her own body is betraying her as she places her other hand on Isa's cheek, wet with tears. For a second her heart stops with fear as she feels Isa tense up from under her.

But then Isa gently takes her bottom lip between hers and wraps a hand around the back of Florence's head. Isa's lips so gently caress her own that she feels like she is about to cry. It feels familiar and foreign and sweet and painful all at the same time, and Florence's stomach feels as if she was falling through thin air as her throat becomes tight.

"I'm so sorry," Isa says with a shudder as she pulls away from Florence. "I'm so, _so_ sorry," she says again, quieter as tears continue to roll down her face.

"Shh," Florence coos, tears beginning to well up in her own eyes, years and years of internalized hurt finally coming to the surface. She doesn't bother telling Isa that she shouldn't be sorry, because the reality of it is that she _should_ be sorry. The things she said that night in the hotel had haunted Florence for years afterward. "It's okay, love," she says, gently wiping the tears away from Isa's eyes like Isa had been doing for her for the past month. She places the gentlest of kisses on Isa's forehead as she hears the door to the bus swing open in the background. "We're okay," she whispers like a prayer as she cradles Isa's head on her chest like a small child. Eventually, everyone piles back onto the bus, and the sandwiches are forgotten about after Rob neatly tucks them into the fridge upon seeing Isa and Florence peacefully asleep in each other's arms through a small crack in the curtain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you read this regularly and want more frequent updates, comments are definitely a way to encourage me to post ;) Here is video of the Arizona concert that includes her snapping at the photographers and getting confused about then singing Falling (10:00 and 35:45, respectively) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjHq6yKGdtI&t=2348s, I thought it would be fun to try and incorporate a little bit of "real life" into the story. 
> 
> Please please please let me know your thoughts! Or if you have any ideas for future fics let me know, I intended for this to be a one off but I really like writing these characters :) Thanks, enjoy!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: very brief allusion to an eating disorder

Florence wakes, light pouring in from a bright window that reminds her so much of the gentle orange glow that would fill her and Grace's room on lazy Saturday mornings when they were kids. Outside it is snowing, a true November morning in New York City, but the warmth of Isa next to her radiates through the thick duvet, forming a little cocoon of comfort. She hums contently, closing her eyes and letting her mind float through the conversation she had with the blonde the night before.

 _"Florence," Isa had said in a solemn whisper, "you had to have known that I've always thought of you like that, do you_ not _think that I think about us all the time?" Isa reached her hand out from under the white covers to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Florence's ear before taking her hand in her own and lightly tracing her lips over it. "Why are you just now bringing this up?"  
Florence shook her head, at a loss for words. "I never thought you would feel that way about me. I was scared it would make things weird."_

_"Flo, honey," Isa said, "you're my person, you know that right? You're my person, and I would choose you over anyone in the world. So yes, I think about us too. A lot." The dark of night casted shadows on Isa's face, making her look like an angel of sorts. She noticed Florence biting on her cheek, and leaned forward to kiss her on the nose. "You're cute." And then they were both laughing, and soon found peaceful, sweet sleep while skyscrapers outside loomed over them like quiet guardians._

Florence continues to turn the conversation over and over again, smoothing it out like a stone in her head, trying to go over every last detail. The genuineness of Isa's voice. How she had reached for her hand and reassured her that she felt the same way. The soft kiss she had placed on her nose like a seal saying _this is official, this is real, this is forever_. What a relief it was, she thought, that she didn't have to worry about all the possibilities of life slipping away from her. That finally, she and Isa could go into greater depths of their already close relationship. She smiles and looks out at the New York skyline, before rolling over to give Isa a good morning kiss; a kiss in the light of day, with no alcohol in their systems, no darkness to hide their innermost feelings.

Except, when she turns over, Isa isn't there.

There is only a note.

  
_Florence,_

_I don't know what I was thinking last night, saying all that bullshit to you. You and I both know that I will never actually feel that way, and I don't know what possessed me to let those words leave my mouth. You are far too young to be acting this way with me, and you are certainly not my type. I don't even know why anyone would want a serious relationship with you. I was thinking of saying we should just forget this and move on, but I think it's best if we just don't see each other anymore. We can finish out these shows, and then I'll go back to..._

The words begin to blur and Florence's head is spinning. She can't remember the year, or why she was in New York City in the first place, or why Isa had left her alone in an unfamiliar hotel room. Her breathing becomes ragged, and it feels like the entire room is swaying side to side. Tears burn in her eyes, and she tries so hard to read the messy hand writing in front of her, but she can't read any of it. In the distance, she hears someone calling out her name, but she is too upset to even try to respond. She keeps staring at the page in front of her as the swaying increases, and then she tries to let out a scream. She doesn't know what or who she's screaming at, only that it feels good to let it out. She pulls at her hair, and notices through her tears that it looks darker, and shorter too. She can't be bothered though, because soon her vision begins to go and she is certain she is about to pass out. She continues to scream into the empty room, and suddenly there is water hitting her face.

"Jesus Christ," Rob says loudly as she sharply inhales. "Are you okay?"

Florence squeezes her eyes shut, and then opens them to find Rob standing close to her face. He is only wearing a pair of boxers, and his hair is pressed flat against his head. She is confused by the image in front of her, and then is confused again as she feels water drip off her brows and eyelashes.

"Florence, it was a nightmare, it was a nightmare love."  
She whips her head around, and the pillow she thought she was leaning against turns out to be Isa, her arms wrapped tightly around Florence's own arms and torso.

Florence's eyes look wildly between the two people on either side of her, and suddenly, a door below her is opened.

"Is everyone okay in here?" a tall man in silk pyjamas asks. "We heard screaming." He is followed by a small woman that looks almost like a slightly younger version of herself, and then Tom.

"Tom, what are you doing here? Who are they? What's happening?" Florence's heart pounds as she tries to comprehend where in the world she is and why there are so many people around her.

"Bad dream, she's still out of it but she's fine, we've got it," Rob tells the man with the dreadlocks as the room continues to sway.

The door closes and the three of them are left alone again as Isa hesitantly lets her tight grip on Florence relax. Rob grabs her hand between both of his and gently whispers to her.

"Hey, hey, we're on a bus, we just left Arizona and now we're almost in California, and Isa and I are here. You were having a bad dream, and you were screaming and thrashing about something."

"You don't have a shirt on," Florence says, unconcerned with what Rob is telling her.  
Rob laughs. "No, I don't because it's 4am and you woke me up and I didn't take the time to get decent because I thought someone was murdering you."

Suddenly, she starts to come to, and she remembers kissing Isa, and reading a letter, and images of that dreaded hotel room; she immediately feels deep embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, god, how long was I screaming?"  
"I'd say a good five or six minutes. And you were _not_ waking up." Florence sees a cup in Rob's hand, and then is suddenly aware of her mildly-wet hair.

" _Aghh_ , I'm _so_ sorry."

Rob gives her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it Flo. Are you okay though? Do you want to talk about it?" Florence shakes her head no. Isa looks at him, and something in her eyes tells him something is wrong. She looks hurt almost as much as post-nightmare Florence does. Her eyes quickly float away from his, and he pats Florence's hand before retreating to his own bunk down the hallway.  
"Isa," Florence says meekly once she settles back into the comfort of her duvet, "are we okay?" In her half-awake state, she can't for the life of her remember what is real and what is just her imagination. But she does know that something has changed between her and Isa _. In real life.  
_"Oh Flo," Isa replies almost sadly, realizing that whatever horrible thing that had just taken over Florence's mind probably had something to do with her and the unexpected kiss they had shared the night before. She soothingly rakes a hand through Florence's wet and tangled hair. "We're more than okay, love."

—

The days go on and Florence and Isa don't directly discuss the new aspect of their relationship, but it seems that every night they find themselves under thick hotel-covers together, first discussing the day they had, then the show if there was one, then how Florence is feeling. Isa talks about her nervousness for her meeting about a producing deal coming up in Montréal, a potential big break that had been provided to her by none-other than Beyoncé. Florence talks about her fears about labor and all the things that could go wrong, and Isa reassures her that everything will work out in the end. Then they sit in silence as Isa traces mindless patterns into Florence's back, and then they end up kissing like two teenagers before resigning to their sleeping position; Florence on her side, with Isa's head tucked into her shoulder and her arm lazily draped over Florence's waist, her hand just barely grazing the small bump that seems to grow just a tiny bit with each passing day. There is a silent agreement that they don't talk about the kissing, or that night in New York, or Florence's dream, or anything that might have come out of Rob's mouth; they are too content with the warmth of each other's company to dare and say something that might threaten it.

In Nevada, they stop at the first of the appointments Dr. Singh had set up at a hospital just outside of Las Vegas. It is much larger than the one in London, and Florence finds herself anxious as she walks along the cold, white tiles with Isa and Rob.

They had agreed to all wear the most inconspicuous, most American looking clothing they had, which ended with Rob wearing trainers with crew socks, khaki shorts that were too short for his tall frame, and a polo. "What?" he had said as Isa snickered at him on the bus. "I look American, don't I?" She couldn't argue with him on that one.

"Hello," Florence says to the older receptionist once they make their way to the Women's Health floor of the hospital. "My name is Florence Welch, my home doctor, Sylvia Singh, set up an appointment for me here at 1:30?"

With a few clicks, the nice woman locates her chart and looks up with a smile. "Yep, I got you hon, follow me right this way." Florence looks back at Rob and Isa, surprised that they wouldn't be subjected to waiting with everyone else in the big open area.

They settle into the sterile-looking white room, Florence sitting on the table with her feet dangling off and Rob and Isa in the two chairs set to the side.

"Flo," Isa snaps when she sees her biting her cheek. "Relax."  
"You're going to bite a hole through that cheek," Rob adds.

Florence chuckles nervously, and consciously stops herself from the nervous habit. "This is weird," she says, her eyes suddenly appearing from under the brim of the baseball cap she is wearing (she still refuses to admit to Grace that the baseball cap is a good option for going incognito—it was the absolute _last_ thing anyone would expect trademark-Florence-Welch to wear).

"Weird how?"  
"Like, look at all this stuff! I don't know what half of it even is!"

Rob and Isa nod in agreement, eyeing all of the various machines and devices around the room. Suddenly Florence goes quiet and pale, and their eyes follow hers, which are staring intently at a package of large needles set to the side.

"They're not gonna—" Florence starts, but they are interrupted by a knock at the door, and a friendly looking man entering the room.

"Hi there, I'm Doctor Thompson, I'll be checking you out today," he says, reaching a hand out to Florence.

"Hello, I'm Florence," she says quietly, her eyes still darting over to the needles every few seconds.

"Isa," Isa says directly as Dr. Thompson shakes her hand. "It's nice to meet you."  
"And you must be—"  
"Rob, I'm her friend," Rob quickly cuts him off, saving him the embarrassment. "Nice to meet you."  
"And you as well," Dr. Thompson says, silently thanking Rob with his eyes for stopping him from making a stupid assumption. "So how are you feeling Ms. Welch?"

"I'm ehm, I'm doing, well. I have, um..." Florence continues rambling as she desperately tries to remember what Sylvie had told her about the genetic testing and the giant needles that went along with it.  
"She's not getting one of those needles today, is she?" Rob asks, cutting Florence's mutterings off.

"Those? Oh, no, no, I'm sorry those are even out, I didn't mean to scare you."

Florence exhales before mumbling a quick "thank god," under her breath. With the needles out of sight, she finally answers his question. "I'm doing good, I've been much better than I have been in the past few weeks."

"Good, good. Any vomiting in the last two weeks?"  
"Only two or three times."  
"Have you been eating alright?"  
"Yes, no problems. My appetite is starting to increase."  
"Good, good," Dr. Thompson says again. "I notice that you don't seem to be showing much, which is perfectly normal but not exactly common at 13 weeks, have you gained any weight?"

Rob and Isa share a knowing glance, not sure how Florence would react. "I don't weigh myself, actually. I don't know."

"Do you know what weight you're usually around? Even just to the nearest ten pounds or so?"  
Florence shakes her head. "I don't have a clue."

Dr. Thompson seems confused by this admission. "Okay. Let's go ahead and weigh you so we can start monitoring that." From under the table he pulls out an electric scale, which Florence steps onto backwards, a trick taught to her by a therapist she had been seeing for years. Dr. Thompson is puzzled at first, not sure if she knows which way is forward, but then has a moment of realization upon seeing her friends' anxious faces.

"Okay, you can go ahead and step off," he says, quickly turning the scale off and writing the number down before filing the paper behind another on the clipboard. "I think that's about it for this stuff, any other changes I should know about?"

Florence shakes her head, and then he directs her to lie back on the table. The table is cold, she notices, and Dr. Thompson gently pulls up her shirt up and puts a copious amount of blue gel on her stomach just like Sylvie had done a few weeks ago. She can feel Rob staring at the slight bump, previously only known to her and Isa, as Dr. Thompson spreads the gel around. Suddenly, the screen to the side of the table comes to life, and Isa lets out a small gasp while Rob smiles like an idiot. Isa reflexively grabs Rob hand, something to ground her as she tries to comprehend the little human hiding underneath the bump she has so dutifully rubbed circles over every night, and Rob squeezes back, suddenly fully realizing that he was going to be an uncle to a tiny person that he would eventually buy a little child-size guitar for. Florence looks over to see the clear outline of a miniature human on the monitor. She can see a head with a tiny up-turned nose, a large set of ribs, two tiny hands and two scrawny, long legs. She was expecting another image of an unintelligible blob like before, so the image before her leaves her speechless.

"There we are," Dr. Thompson says with a smile, studying the three of their faces. Florence can feel her cheeks burning as she goes between looking at the screen and her two friends sitting beside her, both smiling even harder than she was. "Just a little on the small side, but looking really good. You'll probably be able to tell the gender your next ultrasound" He picks up a new device, and holds it next to where the ultrasound is. Suddenly, the room is filled with the sound of a quick and steady beat. Florence feels butterflies in her chest as Dr. Thompson says "Yep. Sounding strong. I couldn't ask for a better heartbeat." Florence finds herself biting her cheek again, and she isn't sure if it's the picture in front of her, or the sound of her baby's heartbeat, or the hormones, or Rob and Isa's faces that make her start crying.

Dr. Thompson prints off three photos as he wipes off Florence's stomach and pulls down her shirt for her. He gently grabs them off the printer along with some tissues, and pats her hand as he hands them to her, saying, "I thought a few extra copies wouldn't hurt." He offers her a smile, and she laughs as she wipes a stray tear while studying the picture. "That is a beautiful, healthy looking baby," he whispers to her, "you're both doing great." He scribbles down his phone number on a notepad before handing it to Florence and telling her that if she needed anything during her time in the states, to give him a call. She genuinely thanks him as he nods and leaves the room.

From her spot on the table, Florence lets out a noise that Isa and Rob aren't sure is a laugh or a sob, and she smiles through tears as she looks up towards them. Immediately, all three of them are in a giant hug, and Florence hands them each a photo before they make their way back to the bus waiting for them in the giant car-lot outside.

—

"Florence, you're going to fucking _die_ out there," Tom says as he starts shaking another hot-hands pack. They had finished their show in Vegas, and now found themselves in Colorado. "Can you at least put on some boots or trainers or something?"

From the windows in the front of the bus, they can all see the ominous white sky and the snow pouring out of it. Florence hadn't exactly planned for a snow storm in the middle of May, and cannot find a single warm dress she is satisfied with in either of her wardrobes. "I'll be fine," she says like a teenager being told off for not wearing a coat to school in the dead of winter. "We'll only be out there an hour."

"I read somewhere that you can die of hypothermia in ten minutes," Rob says as he emerges out of the bunks wearing a full set of thermal underwear and two pairs of socks on either foot. Florence rolls her eyes, but he gives her a knowing look. "Put on some fucking clothes, Flo."

" _No_ ," she says with a finality, grabbing the chiffon in her fists. "This will be fine."

Rob shakes his head. "Fine, but you're not getting my jacket when you can't feel your face anymore."

When she first gets onto the stage, two things strike her: first, how beautiful the amphitheater is, the red rocks looming over the entire thing on either side, and second, how _incredibly_ fucking cold it is.

"Welcome to the Cold as Hell Tour, we're Florence and the Machine," she says with a shiver after their second song. "Is everyone surviving?" she asks half-jokingly, looking into the crowd of people wearing parkas and snow pants and warm hats as the white dust settles over the entire amphitheater. "I'm not," she says with a laugh as she puts the microphone back in its stand. "Clearly, I was the only one who thought this would be okay," she says, motioning to her dress. "But it's okay, we'll make it through."

She sings two more songs before she is shaking so much she can't breathe properly. "Alright, and with _that_ ," she says turning first to the band, then the crowd, "I'm going to take a short little break and see if I can find a jacket because I'm shivering so hard that it sounds like I'm doing a bad vibrato. Sorry guys, I'll be right back." The crowd laughs and she hurries off stage into the warmth. Her skin burns, and for a second, she contemplates surrendering to the heat.

She finishes the rest of the show in a big coat and boots that definitely would not have been approved by the contract she had signed with Gucci. Once the last song is over, they all quickly gather up the wet equipment and hurry backstage, quickly stripping off their soaked and cold clothes into a pile in one of the rooms. Sniffles abound, and they all laugh at the absurdity of performing in a snowstorm in the middle of May. "I couldn't feel my hands for the majority of that, and I was too distracted to notice if I was even playing the right thing," Cyrus says with a smile. Everyone laughs and nods in agreement, going off into little tangents about certain points where they had to stop playing because they couldn't feel their limbs, or having to constantly wipe equipment off, or poking fun at Isa who had the luxury of being under a tent since her equipment was _very_ expensive and _very_ not-waterproof.

As everyone continues getting engulfed in each other's little stories, Isa quietly comes up behind Florence and wraps her arm around her. "So real clothes tomorrow?" she says as she quickly runs a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to warm her up.  
Florence laughs. "We'll see."

—

_Dear Little One,_

_Tour depression is back in full force in once again! Rob keeps telling me you're going to be the most miserable child ever because to be honest, I am the most miserable person ever right now. First we have a snowstorm, and then another cold and miserable night, and then a flood. A flood! Last night was possibly the worst show of my life. After three songs, someone told Dionne that the backstage was in a foot of water, and so we had to stop to go pick things up, and my dress got soaked, and I'm pretty sure I cried... 'twas a mess. I think I must have rambled on about it for a good five minutes before I actually got back to singing._

_And YOU... you now think it's fun to poke me. It doesn't hurt at all, it just feels like, well, a poke. Which is cute when I'm laying down, but not so cute when I'm trying to sing. If you could stop that, it'd be great._

_Your grandfather called today, Auntie Gracie got around to telling him about you. He was a bit more excited than your grandmother. He has decided to call you Lou, and is dead set that I am going to name you Louie or Louise. I think he's out his damn mind. He wasn't too happy about me traveling, but he told me he's going to come to the shows in Florida. He has some friends there so he's going to make a whole little trip of it._

_We're in Montréal now, and I have a little dinner date with Rob later. Isa is going to meet with this major studio that produces for everyone. She was recommended to them by Beyoncé, so it's huge for her. I'm really excited (and nervous!). Your aunt's kind of a big deal._

_Next week I get to see more pictures of you, and I cannot wait. I have spent far too much time staring at the two I have. I'm ready to have another that I can add to the collection._

_Talk to you soon,_

_Love,_

Florence hesitates. She has been signing off her journals with a simple xx, but she suddenly feels ready to accept the title.

_Love,  
Mum xx_

"Writing about Auntie Isa again?" Isa chirps as she exits the bathroom of the small hotel room they were cooped up in. Florence shuts the leather cover and laughs.

"Oh shut it. Auntie Isa is starting to get _annoying_ ," she says as she accepts the vitamins and glass of water Isa hands her.

"How are you feeling?" Isa says, jumping up onto the bed next to Florence, wordlessly taking the glass out of her hands and putting it on the table beside her once Florence downs the tablets.

"I've been feeling fine, but that poking feeling is _incessant_."

Isa laughs. "I can't even imagine what that feels like. Maybe you should appreciate the poking, because soon enough it's going to be full on _kicking_." Florence jokingly groans and Isa wraps her in a hug. "Hey, I'm excited for the kicking. Then we'll know for sure if you have a football player on your hands."

Florence chuckles. "You've met me, right?"

Isa only shakes her head at the joke. They settle into a comfortable silence, Florence softly twirling Isa's hair around her fingers.

"I'm nervous about this meeting," Isa says quietly, turning her head to the ceiling. "Like, this is a _big_ fucking deal if I get it."

Florence nods, not saying much because she knows that Isa getting this dream job also means the end of Isa in the band. The end of Isa living in London. Isa's talents stretch far beyond the limits of the music Florence ever wanted to make, and she knows this. And it terrifies her.

"You're going to get it," Florence says, looking down at her as the moment turns serious. "They would be stupid not to take you."

"I dunno, sometimes I still feel like an eighteen-year-old messing around on some cheap tables who doesn't know the first thing about mixing or production or music in general."

Florence sighs. "Iz, you are a _Grammy-nominated_ songwriter and producer. Beyoncé knows who you are and _handpicked_ you for this job. You are not a nobody." Isa nods, tucking her head back into Florence's shoulder. "Annnd you were handpicked by _the_ Florence Welch before anyone even knew you. I mean, come _on_."

Isa laughs and playfully shoves Florence away. "You bitch, I picked _you_ ," she says with a toothy smile.

"Oh stop, you love me," Florence replies, holding Isa close for a few more minutes until she has to leave for the streets of Montréal.

—

That night, Rob and Florence are tucked into the back corner of a small restaurant in downtown Montréal. Florence finds herself not listening to Rob's ramblings about the new setup he wants to make once he gets his new guitar that probably costs more than her entire house, but looking at his face. The baby-faced twenty-three-year-old with a crooked smile she met over a decade ago is long gone, replaced by a charming looking man with gentle eyes and defined cheekbones. His crooked smile is still the same, but is more confident than it used to be. Florence mechanically nods her head as he continues going on and on about his many musical ideas before he sighs, snapping her out of her trance.

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?"

Florence guiltily smiles. "No. I was thinking about when we were kids."

Rob laughs. "I didn't know you when we were kids."  
"You know what I mean."  
Rob smirks knowingly. "Yeah, those were some times," he laughs, thinking about all the pill-fueled parties and sketchy hotels and bars filled with elderly people expecting a quiet night of acoustic music.  
"You know you were the first person that trusted me, right?"

Rob scoffs. "What do you mean?"  
"Like—well, first of all, you were the first guitarist that didn't ditch me after two months, let's start there."

"Yeah, well no one else wanted me," Rob deadpans with a slight smirk.

"Stop it," Florence laughs, "let me be emotional for a second."

"Oh sorry," Rob says, straightening himself up in his seat before folding his hands neatly in front of him on the table. "As you were."  
"Thank you," Florence says flatly, carrying on with Rob's antics. "You were the first person to not question how fucking crazy I was. No one else wanted to deal with me trying to write songs without knowing how to play any instruments, or the fact that my songs had no structure. Everyone wanted to be up there doing a huge solo, writing their own stuff for me to sing, and they all just kind of dismissed me as another girl trying to make it just with decent voice and a book of poems."  
Rob is quiet, carefully taking in her words. "Flo, who would want to mess with your kind of genius? I loved you _because_ you had all these off-the-wall ideas, and it was like, the biggest honor in the world to be able to get them out of your head and on paper and be your backup. I'd never—I mean, I _still_ haven't come across a voice like yours. It's the most fucking amazing voice in the world, even though maybe I'm biased." He pauses. "Don't let that go to your head."

Florence grins, and then sighs, not sure if he fully understands what she's trying to say. "I'm serious Rob. I mean, I think even Isa was getting sick of me in those early days. Like we were supposed to just be a little side project, and you were the first person to come in and be like 'No, this is going to be a thing and this is going to be big and we're gonna make this happen.' And you have no idea how much that means to me."

Rob bites on his lip, unsure of how to accept the compliment. "I don't know what to say," he says. "Where is this coming from?"  
"I dunno, I guess it's just like—you know, with everything going on right now, you've been such an anchor. And I want you to know how much I appreciate you. How much I always have." She paused, swirling her straw around the ice and water in her glass. "Even though you fucking snitched on me to Isa."

And suddenly the subject is changed, and Rob coyly smiles as he guiltily nods his head. "Yeah, yeah. I did, didn't I. How'd you hear about that?" he asks, wondering if his grand plan to get them to finally talk about whatever was going on between them had worked.

"Well we were talking, and we both realized that you snitched on _both_ of us. Which, I suppose, is better than if you had only done it to one of us."

Rob grimaces. "Yeah, yeah, it was bold of me I suppose."

"Why'd you do it? Were we both actually that obvious?"

Rob chokes on his sip of water. "Really, Flo?"  
"What?" she says innocently. "I mean, yes, clearly you somehow figured out there was something going on between us at some point, but lots of girls are really close with their friends."  
Rob leans forward and puts his chin in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. He stares into Florence's eyes and moves his gaze back and forth between them. "Florence, dear, not many girls are screaming their friends’ names out in early hours of the morning in hotel rooms."

Florence goes red, simultaneously wanting to know exactly what night he was referring to—or god, even worse, what _nights_ —and wanting to pretend those words never left his mouth.

"Well shit," she says quietly. "How much do you know?"

"It was only one night, calm down," he says. "Though the color of your face is telling me it was a _lot_ more than that."

They are interrupted by a waiter placing hot plates of food in front of them, steam rising in front of their faces as they gather their cutlery and place napkins on their laps. "Later," Rob says before taking the first bite of his food, "you're telling me everything."

And so when they return to the hotel, Florence tells Rob everything. From the times as a fourteen-year-old that she would obsess over the older girl, to meeting her by chance at the studio years later, to the messy kiss in the dirty bathroom after their first gig, to the times they would both sleep on the futon in the corner of the Crystal Palace studio, to the first time they hooked up after a drunken night out on Florence's 22nd birthday.

"Do you remember when we did SNL?" Florence asks Rob, curled the corner of her bed, across from the arm chair where Rob lazily picks his guitar as he listens to Florence's stories. He had grabbed his guitar when they got back, knowing that Florence would be far less anxious about opening up if he seemed slightly disinterested.

" _Yes_ ," he says, putting the guitar down beside him. "You and Isa were so weird that trip, what the hell happened that weekend?"

Florence bites on her cheek, idly twisting her fingers in her hands. "Remember I was telling you about how one time Isa said we would never work?" Rob nods. "Um, yeah."  
Rob looks her in the eyes, imploring her for more before she looks away, instead studying her hands. "Okay, are you going to explain that any further?" Rob asks, moving over to the bed to sit next to her.

She takes a deep breath and tells about it all. The breakup with Stuart the week before. The sex. The conversation. Her storming out. How awkward it had been the next day as they both pretended to not remember. How it had haunted her for years afterward. How it still makes her uncomfortable to this day.

"That's what that dream was about the other night," she says, her knees now tucked into her large t-shirt in the cold room.

"Fuck," Rob whispers, taking it all in. "That's horrible Flo, I'm sorry. I know that was a rough year for you."  
Florence nods, and suddenly feels more comfortable talking to Rob. "We kissed when we talked about everything the other day," she says nonchalantly, not wanting Rob to freak out.  
Rob has to bite his lip to contain his smile. "Yeah?"

Florence looks up at him. "Yeah. And um, we've kissed more after that. And we've been sleeping together every night." She looks over to see if she can get a read on him, but he only lovingly looks back at her, encouraging her to continue talking. "I don't know what's happening, but like, it feels right? I'm comfortable. But this," she says, lightly touching her stomach from over her shirt, "complicates everything a little bit."

Rob contemplates her words for a moment before asking his next question. "Do you want a relationship with her?"  
It was the first-time Florence had considered that explicit question. Having a relationship with Isa was always a given, it was just a matter of the depths of it. She contemplates the question, turning her head side to side as her eyes wander the ceiling.

"I think so?" she says quietly, snapping her gaze back to Rob's eyes. "Is that weird?"

"No, no," Rob says assertively. "That makes sense Flo."

"What makes sense?" they hear from the doorway as the heavy door whips open.

"Oh nothing, Isabella dear. So tell us, are you about to take over the entire music industry yet?" he asks, rising from the bed to hug Isa, who had been shaking with nerves earlier in the day. After a moment, she pulls away from Rob with a huge smile on her face.

"YOU'RE KIDDING ME!" Florence says, bouncing off of the bed before stumbling over to where Isa stood, one of her legs completely asleep from sitting on it for so long. "Isa, this is amazing," she says, hugging her tight before letting her go with a kiss on the cheek.

"Congrats, Izzy," Rob says, his cheeks round over his grin. A tear trails down Isa's cheek, overwhelmed from her day. She laughs before gathering her two friends into a big hug.

"I love you both," she says shakily, squeezing them tight. "I don't even know how to feel, but yeah, I'm happy."

After Isa recounts the meeting—where she was told she was going to be the next big producer for R&B and hip-hop—Rob gathers his guitar and excuses himself from the room under the guise of being tired, when in reality he wanted to leave to give Florence and Isa a moment to themselves.

"So Canada, eh?" Florence says, opening her arms up to Isa again as the door closes. Isa happily obliges and sinks herself into the comfort of Florence's embrace. They sway side to side as they hold each other tight.

"Next year, next Summer," Isa whispers. Silent tears trail from both their eyes, and neither one of them know if they're from excitement or fear.

"I'm proud of you," Florence says earnestly.

"I know."

Later, in the contentment of the dark, Isa whispers to Florence, "I heard you talking to Rob when I got back."  
Florence shifts around to face Isa, suddenly feeling exposed. "What did you hear?" she asks, studying Isa's face.

"I dunno, a few things," she says. They sit in the silence as Isa softly strokes the side of Florence's face with her thumb. She sighs. "When are we going to talk about this Flo? Us?"  
Florence softly smiles, her eyes closed from the impending sleep. She nestles her face into Isa's hand before lightly kissing it. "Soon, I promise," she says before turning back around and quickly falling into the warmth of sleep.

—

  
They make their way down the east coast over the next week, stopping in North Carolina for another appointment. Florence's bump was beginning to become more and more difficult to hide, and she had resorted to wearing loose silk shorts under her dresses and leaving the backs unzipped to allow the fabric to float around it.

The doctor she saw was well pleased with the growth, however.

"A lot of growing!" she had said, pulling up the image on the monitor. "A little over ten centimeters," she measured, pulling a cursor across the screen. "Do you want to know the gender? Or I could put it in an envelope for you?" Florence quickly declined, long ago deciding that it would be best to just wait since she had a tendency of over-planning and over-thinking just about everything.

She spent the rest of the appointment looking between the screen and then to Aku and Dionne, who had volunteered to join their anxious friend while Rob and Isa did sound check at the venue. Aku smiled throughout the appointment, studying the little face on the monitor, and Dionne was sure to remind Florence to ask for a print-out of the ultrasound.

"That's crazy, Flo," Aku said walking back to the taxi that had got them there. Florence had grown much closer with the "new kids" over the last few weeks—she didn't have much of a choice in it, considering they watched her cry seemingly constantly over the last few months—but she was so glad to have their company. "That is going to be a cute kid, I can tell."  
Florence smiled sweetly. "I hope so. They better be worth it!" she said with a hearty laugh as she studied the ultrasound a bit more, trying to see if little "Lou" would have the same bump in their nose that she did.

—

"Sorry I'm such a mess," she tells the crowd in Miami, her voice booming through the speakers as she wipes her sweaty hands along the sides of her dress. She is met with encouraging applause and musters up her best smile as her head starts feeling worse and worse. "I mean, I'm always a bit of a mess," she says, "but I'm sure most of you already knew that."

Behind her, Rob shoots Isa a look, saying _we should have never let her out here_. Isa responds with a shrug, saying _how the hell were we supposed to stop her?_

Even her father had noticed how sickly she looked. He had gotten in the night before, absolutely ecstatic to see his daughter who he didn't get to see often during her tours. But now his excitement had turned to pure worry. "Florence, are you feeling alright?" he said, pressing a hand into her forehead like he had done when she was a child. She shrugged him off with a laugh.

"I'm fine, it's just a cold," she replied, doing her best to keep her head up and her eyes open.

"Alright, if you're sure. I'll see you afterwards, my love," he said hesitantly with a kiss on her forehead.

As soon as he left, Florence collapsed onto the couch in the dressing room. "I feel fucking _sick_ ," she said to Isa and Rob, grabbing her head in between her hands. Rob crouched down beside her, placing a hand on her back.

"Alright, well we're definitely going to cut this one short," he said gently as she nodded in agreement. "We could also just not do it at all, Flo. I don't want anything to happen to you. It's hot and one show is not worth your health."

She shook her head. "I'll be fine for an hour. I'll keep a stool in the wings, if I need to sit I'll sit. It'll be okay. I've performed sick a million times before. I mean, _fuck_ , I've performed completely _inebriated_ , it'll be fine."

But by the fifth song, she isn't so sure. Her head feels like it is spinning and her stomach is turning. She notices her in-ears aren't working, the sounds low and distorted. Her vision becomes wavy, and her skin is hot to the touch. For a moment, she thinks she might puke up all her insides, or that her head is going to crack open.

She bravely continues singing, even as her hearing fades away. She breathes hard and the audience cheers, thinking it is just for dramatic effect. She slowly climbs up the stairs of the stage, then disappears behind the wooden set-up just as the last notes of the song hit, slumping down against the wall as she puts the mic down to one side of her and violently pukes on the other side. Her head hurts as if she has dived a hundred feet underwater, and her skin feels like hot needles are being shoved into it. Finally, she can't see or hear anything. And then she gives into the comfort of the darkness, and she is out.

Rob swings the strap of his guitar around his back and puts it down as he sprints up the stairs to see what was going on with Flo. The audience quietly whispers among themselves, knowing that something is wrong as the entire band puts their things down and rush to the backstage area.

"Fuck," Rob says loudly, not noticing the mic laying not a foot away from his face. "Flo? Flo!" He calms down for just long enough to watch her chest rise and fall. "She's breathing, but can someone call for medics?" he calls out to the rest of the crew who aren't far behind him. There is an audible gasp from the audience as his words leave the speakers just beyond the wall, and Rob curses under his breath as he fumbles with the mic. "Can you tell them it's over? But not to leave quite yet so emergency vehicles can get here and leave?" he says, looking frantically up at Aku. He nods and saunters away, noticing Hazel comforting a puking and crying Isa to the other side of the small backstage area. He himself feels sick as he walks back out, carrying the mic in his hands.

"I'm so sorry, but we are going to be done for the night. We are going to ask that you stay where you are for the time being so we can get the necessary vehicles in and out of the venue without traffic. Thank you," he says awkwardly, not knowing what to say with crying fans in the front row right in front of him. "Again, we are really sorry, we love you Miami."

Backstage, the medics on site already have an IV of something going in her arm, an oxygen mask on her face, and have wrapped cool, wet towels all around her. "She's pregnant," Tom says frantically, the first to remember that small detail in all the surrounding chaos. "I thought we should probably tell you." The small woman crouched next to Florence holding the bag of saline nods.

"Absolutely, thank you for letting me know. We're going to get her taken care of."

Isa ungracefully returns from the other side, an arm slung around Hazel as she carefully observes Florence and the many people and things surrounding her. "Are you okay?" the medic asks her, noticing her pale face and limp body.

Isa nods. "Is _she_ okay?"

"She's alright, her blood pressure is coming back up" the medic says, "she just needs a bit of time." The woman gently strokes her sweaty forehead, willing her to wake up.

With that, Florence's face scrunches up, and Isa sighs in relief. She coughs a few times before breathlessly muttering a _fuck_ from under the mask.

"Hi sweetheart," the medic says, getting close to her face as her eyes briefly flutter open, "I need you to keep your head down and keep breathing for me, okay?" she says, carefully moving Florence's hair away from her face and putting a cool towel on her forehead. "My name is Kirsten, you passed out for a few minutes there. We have an oxygen mask on your face and some saline going into your arm. You should start feeling better soon." Florence's eyes float up to Isa, and she reaches a hand out from the ground. She looks scared out of her mind as she listens to medics speaking on radios and the sound of an oxygen canister delivering air into the large plastic mask over her mouth and nose. Isa quickly grabs her hand between hers, and sits on the ground next to Florence as they begin the process of moving her onto a board, and then a gurney.

"I got you Flo, I got you," Isa says, her voice cracking.

Once Florence is secured on the gurney, they wheel her to an ambulance just to the side of the stage. Isa and Rob instinctively go to follow her into the large red vehicle, but are stopped by one of the medics.

"We can only let family accompany patients in ambulances, I'm so sorry," he says with a hand on Rob's shoulder. Rob bites his lip, knowing that Florence's anxiety must be through the roof at this point.

Florence mutters something through her mask as she is lifted into the ambulance. Her eyes are closed and she looks in pain, but she is determined to be heard. "What was that sweetheart?" Kirsten asks, putting her ear closer to Florence.

Florence inhales deeply, mustering up all the strength she possesses. "My girlfriend, can she count as family?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that took a long time to update! I couldn't find a good place to end which resulted in a lot of extra writing and a very long chapter. Thank you for all the comments, I really REALLY love reading them (and would really appreciate if you left some on this chapter :)) Thank you! Enjoy!
> 
> Also shameless plug for my tumblr, I've been posting old Flo pics so check that out if it interests you: alwaysdowntohidewithyou.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

_From JJ, 06:58_ : holy shit did you see this??? she's not answering my texts and neither are dad or isa, do you have anyones number?

 _From Grace: 07:37_ : I don't even know what you're talking about, hold on and let me watch it

Grace curiously opens the link that JJ had sent, putting down Bonnie as she shuffles around her bathroom getting ready for work. "Shh," she coos to Bonnie, who lets out a whine and reaches her tiny arms up upon being put down onto the cold tile floor.

YouTube takes a second to load, and she is left with only the title as the grey swirl goes around and around as the video buffers.

_FLORENCE WELCH EMERGENCY ON STAGE, MIAMI JUNE 6, 2019_

Her heart instantly drops and she wants to run out of the room and to where ever Florence is. Knowing that this is impossible, however, she keeps her eyes focused on the screen as Bonnie continues to claw at her leg.

The video is shaky, but she can see Florence drag herself up the stairs of the stage as she sings the last lines of "Delilah," her hands clinging to the wooden structure to the side of her. By the time the last lines are being sung, she has already disappeared behind the stage. She can hear the mic clearly drop to the floor, and the audience briefly cheers before awful retching and coughing sounds begin. The video gets shakier at this point, but even through the blur she can see Rob run up the stairs first, followed by everyone else, not yet fully realizing what was going on.

"Fuck," Rob says as clear as day, his voice booming through the venue. "Flo? Flo? Florence!" she hears Rob frantically scream through the speakers, out of sight as the frame of the video turns to the ground. "She's breathing, but can someone call for medics?" A hush washes over the crowd, and Grace can feel her heart beating and blood running under her skin. After a few more minutes, of chaos and confusion for the audience, Aku walks out and informs the crowd that the show is over, but that everyone needed to stay put so emergency vehicles could get through. _Fuck_ , Grace thinks, _fuck, fuck, fuck_.

The nine-minute video ends with the sounds of sirens in the background, and Grace stands in stunned silence, not sure who to call or what to do, completely oblivious to the fact she was certainly going to be late to work. She calls JJ.

"Holy shit," Grace says as soon as she hears the ring suddenly cut off. "You haven't heard anything from anyone?"

"Nope. What the fuck do you think happened? I can't get a hold of anyone, and I searched Twitter and the entirety of Google and there is absolutely no information about last night, only a few tweets from people who were there who are concerned."

Grace wracks her brain around, trying to figure out how long ago this happened with the time change. "I mean this was what, four hours ago now? They're probably still getting things sorted, I'm sure if it was anything really bad Dad would have called us by now."

"Yeah. I just—what happened? Do you think she's started drinking again? Like, I know she's been sober for _years_ now but she hasn't been looking like herself lately, and then _this_ happens..."

Grace's breath catches in her throat. She hadn't talked to JJ in weeks, if not months, and apparently, no one else had either.

"J," she says delicately, not particularly wanting to deliver the news of his second niece or nephew through the phone, especially given the situation. "She's four months pregnant."

She is met with silence from the other end.

"J?"

"Shit," he says quietly.

"Yeah."

"I mean, like, _shit_ that's _exciting_ but also, you know, like, _fuck_."

Grace shakes her head at her younger brother's ramblings, so similar to Florence's. "Yeah," is all she gives in reply, not really able to come up with anything new to say.

"What do we do?"

"I guess we wait," Grace says as her heart skips another beat and hot tears well up behind her eyes.

—

Meanwhile just across the ocean, Isa slides the hospital room door shut and turns off some of the lights in the overwhelmingly white room. She had just finished calling Rob and Nick, who were denied by the staff to see Florence since it was well past visiting hours. The last of the doctors had left, and the two of them were back in quiet for the first time in hours.

It had been _orthostatic hypotension gravidam_ , a doctor had told them around midnight; in human words, it was hot outside and Florence was dehydrated and standing for too long in the heat, all while pregnant. On top of that, they found that her blood work was off, though Isa couldn't remember for the life of her what exactly they had said. They had given her a large amount of fluids through an IV that was still dripping into her arm, and decided to keep a low level of oxygen flowing through a cannula around her nose and ears for the time being. Her head had finally started feeling better once they moved her out of the emergency triage area and into an actual room, and a bit of color had returned to her face. Even though she was much improved from just a few hours ago, Isa could still see glimpses of the timid fourteen-year-old she had met nearly two decades ago, her hair wildly pulled up on top of her head, sitting over her pale face.

She raises an eyebrow as she moves to sit at the foot of the bed over a rough, white blanket covering Florence's hospital-gowned body. "So girlfriend—no, scratch that, _fiancé_?"

Florence smiles sweetly, the oxygen cannula digging into her cheeks. "What, would you've rather me told them that _Rob_ was my boyfriend-fiancé?" Her voice sounds unfamiliar, cracking and all dried out from the air being forced into her nose and throat.

Isa smiles and shakes her head, placing a hand on Florence's leg from her spot on the side of the bed. She had changed into a pair of plain pyjama's one of the nurses had been nice enough to bring her, knowing that it was too late for Isa to go back out to find clothes and that a long, chiffon dress wasn't exactly ideal for sleeping. Isa doesn't push the subject any further, knowing that there would be a better time and place to have that conversation. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Like shit," Florence quickly responds. "That was not a good idea. That was fucking scary."

"You think Flo?" Isa retorts, her eyes going wide. "That was probably one of the scariest things I've ever witnessed, I thought you were dead for a hot second."

Florence rolls her eyes ever so slightly. "You're so damn dramatic."

Isa tilts her head back at Florence, unsure if she realizes how serious the whole thing was. "Florence, if you walked backstage to find me knocked out in a puddle of my own vom with my skin about the color of that wall, would you not be just a little freaked out?"

"Okay, fine," Florence finally agrees. "But I mean, you've definitely seen me passed out in a puddle of my own puke before," she says sassily, leaning her head back against a pillow.

"Not funny, Florence," Isa says, her tone becoming just a little more serious. "I mean, I walked back there to find Rob crouched over you to make sure you were even _breathing,_ Flo. You looked so bad and I was so freaked out that I just started puking, Hazel literally had to hold me up. And then when you came to, you looked like you were in _so_ much pain," Isa nervously pulls at her hair as she absentmindedly shakes her head. Florence watches her blue eyes begin to fill with tears, the florescent lights above dancing in their reflection. "I was scared, Flo," she says under her breath almost unable to even get the words out, her tone changing from nearly angry to just sad. "You fucking scared me to _death_." Isa's cheek trembles as she tries to compose herself. _Florence needs you_ , she thinks. _It can't be the other way around, get yourself together._

But without saying a thing, Florence pulls her arms from out under the covers and scoots over on the tiny bed, wordlessly inviting Isa to join her. Isa obliges, tucking her head into Florence's shoulder as Florence wraps her arms around her, suddenly realizing how serious the whole thing could have been, and how completely and utterly traumatized she would be if the same thing happened to Isa.

"I'm sorry for joking about it," she says, softly kissing Isa's hairline.

"There's no need to apologize Flo," Isa sighs, sinking into the familiar comfort of Florence's arms. She studies the two heart monitors next to the bed, her eyes moving between watching Florence's slow, steady beat and the quick, ferocious beat of the baby. Outside, nurses quietly chat and walk down the halls. It is eerily silent, save for some erratic beeping noises and the rolling of wheels down sterile tile floors. 

Even after the entirely-too-long day, neither one of them can find sleep. They sit in the dark silence for what seems like an eternity, the only interruption being a nurse coming in to hang a new bag on the IV pole.

Finally, as the small clock perched above the bathroom door reaches five in the morning, Florence wills herself to speak.

"Well," she says, hesitant to be the one to break the peace, "if we're not going to sleep I suppose now's as good a time as ever to have that talk."

Isa mumbles something and then buries herself further into Florence's side. Suddenly _she_ is the one not wanting to have the conversation, especially after hearing how easily "girlfriend" rolled off Florence's tongue as she was loaded into the ambulance, and then again in the emergency room, and finally, how easily she resorted to going as far to say Isa was her _fiancé_ when one of the older nurses began giving her a hard time about overnight visitors.

"Fine, we'll just sit and stare at the wall until Rob gets here at nine then," Florence says flatly.

Isa removes herself from Florence's side and props herself up on an elbow. Her eyelids are heavy with the need for sleep, but Florence can see a million thoughts racing behind her irises. "I don't even know where to start," Isa says honestly.

"Alright, we're just going to ask each other questions, because I have a few and I'm sure you have plenty too." Isa nods. "So that night at the party, what was that about?"

It's funny because they had been to loads of parties, but Isa knew exactly which one Florence was referring to.

"Rob already told you."

"But _you_ didn't."

Isa sighs and she is glad for the dark room as her cheeks grow hot. "Honestly? You fucked me up back then, Flo. Big time," Isa laughs a little, trying to conceal how serious she was being. "Like, I had always known that I liked girls, but that part of me was terrifying and I always just pushed it to the side. And then you come in, and you're so free, and innocent, and nice to me, and don't really give a second thought about kissing girls. So yeah, I mean, I fell hard, but at that point I was also pretty aware of our age difference because you were still such a kid then, and I'd known you since you were fourteen—so like, all of that and then on _top_ of it you're a girl."

"I was the first girl you kissed?" Florence says incredulously, ignoring the rest of Isa's words.

"I mean, yes, but you were also the first girl to make it seem like it was even okay to kiss girls in the first place."

Florence nods and sits with her thoughts for a moment before speaking. "I didn't even think—like, I never considered that girls might even have feelings for me back then? Like it was always just fun for me at that point. With guys and girls. I dunno, I just kind of got with whoever without ever thinking about the fact that I might be using people. I was never invested emotionally, and I know I ended up hurting a lot of people." She swallows before her next statement. "I'm sorry if I ever hurt you, Iz."  
Isa nods before diving straight into her question. "Do you actually like girls, Flo?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like, would you consider yourself 'not-straight'."

Florence thinks. "Ehm—I mean, I never really thought about it, but I suppose I've never whole-heartedly identified as straight, either. It's weird, I don't give much thought to gender, for myself or for anyone really, but it's always men that I've gotten into relationships with, so I always just kind of _assumed_ myself as straight. I guess—I dunno," she trails off, not knowing the answer to Isa's question herself.

"So, yes, 'not-straight,'" Isa says cautiously, searching for confirmation. 

Florence sighs. "Yes, _not-straight_."

Isa squeezes her shoulder. "Alright, your turn."

Florence exhales loudly, thinking of her next question. "Is it okay if we talk about New York?" she asks gently, not wanting to go there if Isa wasn't ready.

Isa nods ever so slightly. "Yeah, we can," she whispers.

Florence kisses the top of her head, a signal of trust before they get into the potentially bad stuff. "When did you stop having feelings for me? Between that night at David's and SNL?"

Isa sits in the quiet, listening to the steady sound of oxygen going through the cannula next to her ear. Florence softly runs her fingers up and down Isa's side, as if to disarm her, to let her know it was all okay. "I think it was when you got back with Stuart," she says honestly. Florence holds her a little tighter, acknowledging her words. "And it's not that I stopped liking you, Flo, it was that I had to protect myself. When you first broke up with Stuart I actually thought we had a chance. I'd watch you get with a random guy, and then we'd hook up or you'd spend the night or we'd have some deep conversation, and we were hanging out so much, but then you'd get together with another random guy, but I would still think we had a chance, but then when you got back with Stuart? Even after all that shit he pulled?" Isa looks to the ceiling and shakes her head, unable to articulate how that period of time had damaged her. "That _hurt_. So I cut you off. So I guess that leads right to my next question; when did _you_ start liking _me_?"

Florence pauses, unable to put an exact date on it. "I mean, I always found you attractive," Florence says with a slight blush. "I just—like you said, the age difference was weird at first. You were always going out with people who were like, _fifteen_ years older than me. So compared to all of them, I always felt like such a little kid. And I was always the one to initiate everything. So, I mean, I just always kind of assumed that you weren't interested in me. I was having fun, and you were having fun, so I just let it be."

"You didn't answer my question, Flo."

Florence can feel the gentle filling of Isa's chest next to hers with each breath. "What do you mean?"

Isa sighs—she didn't want to have to spell it out, but Florence was making it difficult. "I mean, let's _actually_ talk about that night in New York."

Florence purses her lips together, carefully looking for the right words. "That night in New York," she begins, "I had been planning in my head for like a _year_."

Isa furrows her brows. "A _year_?" She says, turning her head to the side to meet Florence's gaze.

Florence nods. "A year."

"What about Stuart?"

"Isa, you know how that year was. I was a mess, and he was manipulative as all fuck. Not the best combination. I hated him, but I felt like I also couldn't get anything better than him? So I would daydream about confessing feelings for you"—she cringes. "God the way I just said that makes me sound like a thirteen year old," she says, bringing her hands up to cover her eyes in embarrassment, shaking her head back and forth, trying to forget the memories of lying in bed just before sleep next to Stuart, thinking about Isa and nothing else. "But yeah, anyway... I thought about it all the time. But it would always end with you rejecting me because I wasn't good enough, or pretty enough, or your-type-enough, or old enough. I just thought I wasn't _enough_ —you know how I was back then. And on top of that, I was still operating under the assumption that I was straight. So first of all, I thought that maybe I just liked you because you were nice to me, and second of all, I thought you wouldn't believe me because I had always been with guys. So up until that night, those words really _were_ just a stupid daydream."

Isa bites her lip and casts her eyes downward. "So I guess I fulfilled your fears pretty well then, didn't I?"

Florence nods silently before saying, "Yeah, yeah you did."

They find themselves sitting in silence again, and it is so quiet that Isa can hear the _drip, drip_ of the IV line above their heads. Outside, cars whiz by and cicadas sing their song.

Now Isa is the one to disturb the peace. "Florence, I hope you know I never would have said those things if I knew everything I know now."

"I know you wouldn't have. And I would have never gotten back with Stuart in the first place if I knew what I know now."

Isa leans up to press her lips into Florence's temple, lightly holding them there just above the tube running across her cheek. She settles back into the crook of Florence's neck before reaching for her stomach, her fingers tenderly tracing the outline of the bump beneath them. Outside, the first light of morning is beginning to creep up, and it gives Isa a new sense of bravery. "So what do you want to come of all this, Flo?"

Florence nervously rolls the tube of the cannula between her fingers, unsure of what the correct answer is here. She wants to answer the question truthfully, to let all her feelings come flooding out like they did during that kiss on the bus a few weeks ago. But she holds back, afraid of what Isa might say.

"I dunno, I just know that I want you to be around." She pauses before amending the statement. "Always."

"That kind of sounds like what a relationship is, Florence."

"Yeah, it does," Florence says almost dejectedly.

Isa sits up in the reclined bed so that her head is even with Florence's before moving her arms around her neck and gently guiding Florence's head to her shoulder. She keeps her hand wrapped around the side of her head, and cradles her like she wishes she had done the night of that original conversation eight years ago.

"I care about you more than anyone Flo, and you know that." Florence tries to muster up a smile as a tear rolls down her cheek. She knows what is coming next. "But this is a really important time for you, and I don't want to mess it up like I mess up everything." Florence shakily exhales, more tears beginning to surface. "Shh, shh, shh," Isa says as Florence begins to shake. She wraps her arms around her tighter and lightly sways both of them side to side "Let me finish."

Florence nods, giving her permission to continue.

"So, what I was saying was, we're going to take this slow, okay?" Florence's heart skips a beat, not expecting those words out of Isa. Florence's eyes search Isa's for any signs of hesitation, but Isa only confidently and comfortingly look back into hers. "I also want to be around you. _Always_ ," Isa says, mimicking exactly what Florence had said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "But I don't want this to result in a crash landing. If we're going to do this we're going to do this right, and you're going to get this one," Isa says, reaching her hand back down to Florence's stomach, "out and about before we dive in too deep. This is going to be new for both of us, and I think it's probably going to be a lot harder than we think it is. We're just going to have to trust each other, okay?" she finishes, pulling Florence closer to her.

Florence reaches for her hand and squeezes it tight. "Okay Iz."

Isa exhales, glad that they are for once, after so many years of going back and forth, on the same page. "Flo?"

"Mm?" Florence replies, too busy thinking about all the things that have been said to form a coherent response.

"I love you."

It's been said a million times between them before, but somehow this one feels different. As the room turns to an orange glow, Florence finally gets her kiss in the light of day, no hesitation as she pulls the cannula away from her face and gently cups Isa's cheeks with her hands. Their lips gently crash together like waves to the shore on a quiet morning. Isa pulls away with a smile as Florence whispers back a breathy "I love you too." Florence gives her one last kiss on the forehead before they settle into the bed and finally fall asleep.

—

"Yeah, yeah, they're still asleep, maybe you could come by in an hour or two?" Rob says to Nick through the phone as he rubs his face with his hand, trying to get himself to wake up. "Yeah, that would probably be good, yep... No, she looks alright... Okay, I'll tell her... Of course, it's no problem, I'll see you soon. Yep... Okay, bye now." Rob hangs up the phone. It had been a long night, first trying to get into the hospital with Florence's father, then being turned away, then realizing that all of their phones were still at the venue, then having to get the woman at the reception desk to call them a taxi, only to get back to the hotel to realize he had no keys, no form of ID, and still, no phone. Thankfully, the nice person at the hotel desk had gave him a new key without asking any questions, and Hazel had been smart enough to gather all of their things and make sure they made it back onto the bus.

And now he found himself in front of the sliding glass door of Florence's room, watching her peacefully breathe in and out with Isa wrapped around her side. Her gown was too big on her small frame, her bony shoulders jutting out of it, and her hair was half up and half down, clumped together in tangles. The cot on the floor that had clearly been left for Isa appeared to be untouched.

Rob sighs as he notices the oxygen cannula hanging off the side of the bed. He pushes the door to the side, and quietly enters. He finds himself staring at the way Isa's head so perfectly fits in between Florence's neck and shoulder, her blonde hair mixing with some of Florence's red tresses, before he realizes why he came in in the first place. He ever so gently takes the cannula, and wraps it around Florence's ears before placing the nose piece under her nostrils. As he steps back she stirs, her entire body tensing up, which then wakes Isa up, and suddenly he feels like an intruder.

Isa rubs her eyes and squints, looking up at him before she speaks. "You look like a damn mess," she says before resigning herself back to Florence's shoulder.

Rob scoffs. "Have you seen what the two of you look like? What happened once you got here last night, fight club?"

Florence raises a middle finger with her eyes still closed.

"Well good morning to you too, princess," Rob says before pulling a seat over to her side of the bed, next to the monitors and IV line. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his tone becoming serious as he places a hand on her shoulder.

"A whole lot better than last night," Florence croaks out, her voice completely not her own.

" _Woah there_ ," Rob exclaims, "you sound like shit... not that that should be a concern right now... but _fuck_ Flo."

"Yeah, there was a reason I left this off," she says with her voice twisting and cracking as she reaches for the tubing in her nose.

"Oi!" Rob says as she goes to take it off again. "That stays on, I don't care if you never sing again."

Florence rolls her eyes.

"Alright, back to the original question, and I won't judge you for your voice this time, how are you feeling? Did they tell you what happened?"

"I'm alright, my head still hurts a bit, but they said my blood pressure got really low and it was probably heat stroke? And then they were talking about some protein in my blood, but I didn't really catch much of that—do you know what they were talking about Isa?"

Isa shakes her head. "It all sounded like a different language to me." Her eyes look exhausted, but Rob notices her studying Florence, looking for any sign that something is wrong.

"Did you guys get any sleep? What time did they get you out of the emergency room?"

Florence and Isa look at each other like two kids caught stealing candy from a store, and Rob just _knows_ what discussion took place last night.

"Yeah, they got us up here at a decent hour and we went right to sleep, we were exhausted," Isa quickly lies.

Florence nods her head right along. "Did _you_ get any sleep? Isa's right, you _do_ look a damn mess," she says, finally opening her eyes enough to get the full picture of Rob in his sweatpants, black t-shirt with a hole in it and his trainers. She notices his hair is parted oddly, and there is a bit of dried drool on the side of his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah, we got back at a decent hour," he lies, not wanting Florence to feel too bad. "Your dad was a mess though,"

" _Shit_ ," Florence mutters. "I completely forgot he was here."

"Yeah, I told him to come by in an hour or two since you were both still asleep."

"Does he know I'm fine?"

"Yeah, the hospital called me last night and then again this morning, I guess Isa asked for them to do that."

Isa nods. "I didn't want you guys worrying too much."

The three sit there, all staring at each other's faces, realizing what a small miracle that all three of them are still alive through all the stupid and dangerous things they've done together, last night being just another check on a very long list.

"So," Rob says, eyeing the cot that is about a foot shorter than he is laying on the ground, "can I be the boyfriend in our pretend polygamous relationship and take the cot tonight since it's clearly not going to be put to use otherwise?"

Later in the afternoon, Florence receives a call from an unknown London number on her cell phone. Rob had brought it back for her, and she had yet to even acknowledge the seemingly endless list of missed calls and text messages from people ranging from Grace to a friend she hadn't spoken to in years. Isa and Rob had left to meet the rest of the crew for lunch, and her father had hesitantly agreed to go meet his friends like he had originally planned after Florence had practically begged him to leave, wanting the quiet afternoon light all to herself. She hesitantly picks up, knowing that a London number calling her American cell was probably not a simple misplaced call.

"Hello?"

"Florence dear, are you okay? They just sent me a report and then I saw that video."

It is the unmistakable voice of Dr. Singh, her unique accent representative of a life lived half in London and half somewhere else that reminds Florence so much of her own mother's.

"There's a video?" Florence quips, nervously pinching the corner of the blanket with her thumb and first finger.

Sylvie audibly sighs across the line. "Doesn't matter. How are you doing? And what exactly happened? The report didn't have much about anything that happened before you got to the emergency department."

Florence wracks her brain, searching for any memories of the previous night. "My head was really hurting, but that happens from time to time. But I remember just feeling sick and hot, and then I felt pins and needles, and I think I threw up? But I don't remember anything after that really," Florence says, her voice growing quiet. She notices herself biting her cheek and stops herself, not wanting the growing wound to open up again.

"Okay," Sylvie begins gently through the tiny iPhone speaker. "So maybe no more shows."

Florence continues fiddling with the blanket, picking off little pills of fabric with her nails. "Well, I have a week or so, we'll see," Florence says tentatively. 

"Florence, I mean it. Your bloodwork is all over the place, that heat is too much to handle—it's just not a good idea."

Florence doesn't respond, instead going back to biting her cheek, not caring if the taste of blood fills her mouth. 

"Florence?"

"We'll see," Florence says quietly.

"Okay," Sylvie says, not wanting to upset her. "About that bloodwork, did they come and do more yet? Have they talked to you?"

"No they haven't, why?"

Sylvie tries her best to explain what she saw on the report, telling Florence something about oxygen and some funny word that starts with an a, but she is interrupted by a tall American doctor walking into the room.

"There's a doctor here now," Florence says into the phone, quietly acknowledging the presence in the room with a nod of her head. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Please do. I'll be sure to look at the updates as they're sent. Take care," Sylvie replies before hanging up.

The doctor takes a seat on the foot of the bed like he is a familiar friend, which bothers Florence. She instinctively sits up and brings her knees to her chest as he begins to drone on about who he is, and pleasantries about a foreign exchange trip he took to London when he was in his first year of college, and then about what happened the night before, and that Florence needs to wear the oxygen even if it's uncomfortable, and that she is dangerously anemic, and that there was a possibility of the baby being in distress, and that he had ordered a number of tests that were going to be done, and—

"What do you mean?" Florence asks as she snaps out of her trance, the words he was saying suddenly becoming loud upon the mention of the baby. She feels lonely in that instant, and silently prays that Isa, or Rob, or _anyone_ would be back soon.

The doctor looks her straight in the eyes and then looks away, their pure green almost painful to look at as he delivers the less-than-ideal updates. He is young, probably younger than her Florence notices, and she feels almost bad that he was the one sent to talk to her.

"Your bloodwork showed that you're really anemic. So that means your body is having trouble getting oxygen everywhere it needs to be, including to the baby. The baby, at least from the ultrasound last night and the heart monitor, seems to be okay, but we're going to run some more tests just to make sure."

Florence shakily nods, and then, suddenly remembering that she had taken off the oxygen the second Rob left the room, reaches for the hissing cannula beside her, shamefully putting it back on as the doctor watches.

The doctor inhales, wanting to quickly get everything over with so he can leave the intense and curious stare of the woman in front of him. "And then there was another protein count that was pretty off," he starts, looking down at his hands. "It is pretty typical with a specific disorder that could complicate the pregnancy, but we can talk about that once all the tests are done. No point in worrying over something that we don't know for sure yet," he says as he rises to his feet. He places a hand on Florence's shoulder, and she again flinches at the contact that would normally be made only by a close friend. 

"When are they going to do the tests?" she asks, looking up.

"There will be an ultrasound tech up here in the next twenty minutes," he says, "and someone will be by to redraw blood before the afternoon is over."

The door slides open, and Rob and Isa quietly enter, the smell of Chinese food filling the room from a white paper bag in Rob's hand.

"Hiya," Isa says, putting down her things. "Everything okay?"

"Yep, I was just leaving actually,“ the doctor says, giving Florence a pitiful smile and a pat on the shoulder before leaving without another word.

Florence is mad at many things—the dry air running through her nose and throat, the shows that might have to be cancelled, the rude doctor, the food her friends had brought back for her that was now going to go to waste, the lack of answers she had, the fact that she couldn't possibly ask Isa, or Rob for that matter, to deal with all her problems in lieu of traveling across the globe—but mostly, she is mad at herself for getting herself into yet another impossible situation.

The warm tears begin their decent, and she is quickly anchored by Rob and Isa on either side as she cries into her hands, her poor, dried out throat making awful noises as she tries to get breaths in and out, in and out.

Without thinking, she leans into Rob, burying her tear-filled face into his black t-shirt. Rob looks over to Isa almost apologetically as he pulls Florence in close. Isa keeps a hand lightly on Florence's shoulder, wanting nothing more than to wrap Florence up and protect her from whatever demons were beginning to knock at the door.

"It's okay Flo, whatever it is, we'll figure it out," Rob says in a whisper, kissing the top of her head like a protective older brother as a nurse quickly enters then exits the room upon seeing the scene unfolding before her.

_  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kind of short and low key sad—it will be made up for! I just got back to school so updates might be a bit more scarce, but I promise this story will be finished. 
> 
> Comments are so very appreciated! I love reading them and they definitely keep me motivated to write :) Let me know if you have any suggestions for this or future writing!


	10. Chapter 10

"A week," Grace tells her manager three days after watching that god-awful video, and a day after an hour-long phone conversation where Florence couldn't manage to speak without breaking down into tears. "Just a week."

He looks back at her, and there is a seriousness in her face that he hadn't yet seen in his young employee. He sighs and signs the paper. "Turn this in to HR, they'll get you squared away."

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it," Grace says, the relief evident in her voice. She had already made plans for Bonnie to stay with her in-laws so that Dan wouldn't have to drop all his night-shifts, and didn't want to have to rearrange everything yet again. "I'm sorry this was such short notice."  
Her manager doesn't reply, he just turns to her and hands her the paper. "I'll see you on the 22nd."

During her break, Grace steps into the warm June sun and calls JJ. "You down for a trip?" she asks as soon as he picks up.

—

_So I'm a mess, basically_ , Florence scribbles out in loopy letters, on hour three of writing. Her hand had started cramping long ago, but she ignores it as an oxygen concentrator whirrs in the background and the annoying overhead light starts flickering again. Rob and Isa had left for the hotel, desperate for a night of sleep on real beds away from the stress of the hospital, and—if they're being honest—away from the stress of Florence.

_I mean, I know this will all be fine and everything, but they will not stop scaring me with every word out of their mouth. Maybe it's a sign that I need to slow down and stop? I don't even know, I feel like whatever they tell me I'm going to hate it. I want to do the shows, I don't want to do the shows, I want to go home, I want to stay here. I want to understand exactly what's going on. I don't._

_I'm scared. The girl who did the ultrasound looked terrified. The doctor looked terrified. The entire band looked terrified when they came round earlier. Everyone's doing that thing where they smile but it doesn't reach their eyes and you can tell they're just doing their best to not let you know how bad it is._

_They're telling me bedrest and a handful of pills every morning. I still need to call Sylvie so I can schedule a caesarian, which is crazy because it feels like that's months away, but they want to do it early so that we don't take any chances. If you could just keep it cool it would be much appreciated._

Florence pauses before she continues writing. She had meant for this to be a cute little journal for her future child, one that would remind them of how loved they are and guide them through the journey of how they came to be. But as time passes on, Florence finds herself writing for her own sanity, filling the soft leather cover with pages upon pages of expletives and stories that don't belong in a child's hands. _Fuck it_ , she thinks.

_And I don't know what I'm doing with Isa. She doesn't deserve all of this. I would have been terrified to start something with her before I got myself pregnant, but now she especially doesn't need all of this. I didn't mean to blindside her like I did, but I felt like I was going to explode if she didn't leave._

_I really think I could be content for the rest of my life just with you, and I think that would probably be for the best. For all of us. But if I'm going to put an end to this, it needs to happen now. And it will probably kill me. And it will also kill me if I don't. But I don't know how. How do you let go of the person you care about the most?_

Florence shuts the journal, giving into the cramp in her hand and the pen that was beginning to run low on ink. The small clock above the wooden bathroom door reads eight o'clock, but it feels much later. She studies the flickering light that she had been willing to stay on for the past four days to no avail. She sighs and turns it off, instead turning to the flowers Rob had bought the day before that were beginning to droop in their small glass vase. She had finally been in the room long enough that the smell of cleaning solution wasn't bothering her anymore, but she still could not get over the annoying blue light of the monitors beside her.

It is the first time she has been alone in the room at night, and a huge wave of emotion overtakes her as she thinks about all that has happened in the last three days.

Isa told her she loved her.

She told her she loved her back.

She got diagnosed with severe anemia.

She got diagnosed with some scary word that meant there wasn't enough fluid around the baby.

Her pregnancy officially became labeled "high-risk".

She told Isa she needed space.

Isa cried.

She yelled at Rob.

She said goodbye to her dad.

She cried herself to sleep trying to talk things out with a nice nurse who noticed she was struggling.

She typed out a hundred drafts on her phone of the announcement she would have to make come the end of the week.

She deleted a hundred drafts off her phone.

Florence sits back, thinking about how quick she had been to scream at Rob after he tried to comfort her. The day before last she told Isa that she needed to be alone, that things didn't feel right and that she needed time to think.

"Flo, what do you mean? I don't understand, I thought we talked about this the other night," Isa had said. She was sat in the corner of the room on the chair, her face laced with exhaustion.

Florence couldn't look at her. "I mean, my head isn't in a good place, and I don't want to drag you under, Iz."

Isa got up to stand near the bed and reflexively reached for Florence's hand, but Florence quickly moved it away, instead grabbing her other hand with it.

"Flo," Isa said breathily, the hurt evident in her voice. "What can I do? What can I do to make you feel better about this?" In that moment, seeing Isa look so hurt, so small, something in Florence switched.

"Leave," she replied without hesitation, her emotion beginning to fail her.

"Florence—"

"I mean it Isa. I'll be fine eventually, but right now I need to be alone."

At this point Isa was full on crying, Florence was beginning to cry, and Rob finally returned from his trip back to the hotel.

"What's wrong?" he asked innocently upon seeing the two of them.

"Nothing, we should go, I think Flo wants some time to herself," Isa said, collecting herself as to not alert Rob to what was happening.

"No, what? I'm staying here," Rob replied, putting his things down. "Flo, are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Isa left the room as she wiped tears from under her eyes with the back of her hands. The long days at the hospitals and meetings with various doctors had taken a mental toll on her too, and Florence telling her to leave after everything pushed her past her breaking point.

"You've got to tell me what's going on," Rob said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I know you've had a rough few days, but now is not the time to just—"

"Go," Florence said, anger starting to fill her chest. It was a particular kind of anger that would visit her from time to time, one that didn't stem from any wrongdoing, but rather a deep force of internal darkness that told her she needed to isolate herself from everyone and everything. "I don't want to talk right now."

"Look, Flo, no one wants to be here but—"

"IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE HERE THEN FUCKING LEAVE!"

The words weren't loud, as her voice had nearly disappeared after the second day, but they surprised her as they left her mouth. She knew it wasn't what Rob meant, but she was so angry that she didn't want to listen to anyone attempt to calm her down anymore.

It was the closest she'd ever seen Rob come to crying, and it made her want to curl up and die the second he walked out the door.

They had returned the next day, and all three of them did their best to pretend that nothing happened, though they all knew something had changed. That Florence was no longer herself; that the stress of her situation had finally taken its toll.

Alone in her room, Florence breathes in and out deeply, trying to remind herself that forgiveness was unconditional between them and that it would all be a distant memory in a few years’ time. Even with this self-reassurance, the pit in her chest starts to feel heavier and heavier though, and she begins to feel as if she will never feel at peace ever again.

For the first time in years, she wants her mother—the person whose pragmatic wisdom would make everything a bit more bearable.

Through the glass door, she can hear a nurse talking to someone.

"Well, if you want to stay, I didn't see anything," she hears the nurse say in a thick American accent.

Then a familiar laugh. "I appreciate it," a new voice replies back.

"Yes, thank you so much."

"God you look so much like her, it's unreal," the nurse says before Florence listens to her walk away.

They're London voices, and before she has a chance to comprehend what that might mean, a tall young man with eyes identical to her own is in her room, a blue Mylar "Get Well Soon!" balloon in his hand.

"Surprise?" JJ says tentatively upon seeing his sister laying on the bed, looking as lost in her thoughts as ever.

"What the _fuck_ ," Florence says, quickly swinging her legs over the side of the bed and practically running over to JJ. She wraps him in a huge hug, the force of her nearly knocking him over.

"It's good to see you too," he laughs.

"How the hell—don't you have school?" JJ had recently gotten into medical school, which Florence was extremely proud of, and now she was worried that even more people than necessary were sacrificing themselves for her well-being.

"It's June, Flossy."

"Oh, right." Florence pulls away and looks her brother up and down. "I can't believe you're here. How did you even get here?"

"You know? I thought about taking a plane, but I decided to hitchhike instead."

Florence smiles slightly at her brother's dumb reply to her dumb question. "I missed you."

"I missed you too Flo." He wraps her in another hug, missing all the stupid late night conversations they used to have when they both lived at home.

They are interrupted by another voice at the door.

"I hate to interrupt the love-fest, but the hitchhiking was exhausting and I'd very much like to sit down." Grace appears, her big blue eyes looking expectantly into the room.

"You bitch," Florence says, her breath catching in her throat. She releases JJ and moves towards Grace. JJ smiles as he watches his sisters embrace, tears running down both of their faces. It feels like a private moment that he shouldn't be privy too, but he remembers how Grace insisted that he would be good for Florence's spirit, and sits quietly in the chair across from them.

"What are you doing here?" Florence asks quietly.

"I wanted to be here. I thought you could use some new faces." Grace moves her sister's fringe out of her eyes. "You don't look so good, Flo," she says quietly, wanting to be gentle with her honesty.

Florence laughs at the statement. "I'm a mess," she replies truthfully, somewhere between a giggle and a cry. "How long are you here for?" she asks, looking at Grace first, then over her shoulder at JJ.

"I'm here for the weekend," JJ replies. "I have to be back for an interview on Tuesday."

"I'm here until the 20th," Grace says. Florence breaths a mental sigh of relief, knowing that Grace would be with her until she returns to London.

"Come here," Florence says to JJ, motioning to him with her hand from across the room. He walks over and wraps his arms around his sisters, and then the three of them are in an embrace in the dim light of the hospital room.

To Grace, it feels reminiscent of the night their parents told them they were separating.

Grace was only nine at the time, but she had felt that announcement coming for months. The fights had become incessant, and it seemed that her parents didn't talk to each other unless they were in the presence of her or JJ or Florence. Grace noticed her father "accidentally" falling asleep on the sofa overnight more and more.

The night that her parents told them that horrific news over a dinner of lemon chicken and pasta, Grace returned to her bedroom and read for hours on end, trying to purge everything she had just been told from her mind. She got through two and a half books of "Little House on the Prairie" before realizing that Florence hadn't returned to her spot on the lower bunk. It was half past midnight, so Grace slipped on Florence's coat and shoes that were both too big for her before going outside to coerce Florence back into the house.

"Flo?" she said quietly into the tiny garden through the back door. She walked outside to Florence's normal spot in the corner of the yard where there was a stump of a tree that had been cut down long ago, but she wasn't there.

Grace sighed, knowing that Florence had gone to the park to hang out with her "friends." Though Grace was young, she was smart enough to realize that those older teenagers didn't see her sister as a friend, but as a kind of entertaining experiment, seeing what would happen when they gave an eleven-year-old alcohol, or E, or six spoonful’s of the cough suppressant they stole from their parents’ drawers.

Grace returned inside the house, and found her own jacket and shoes before gathering the slightly larger jacket in her arms. She quietly opened the front door and slipped it back in its frame before making the short walk to the park.

It was dark, the only light coming from the few lampposts that actually worked, but Grace could quickly see her sister sitting at the top of the oddly grown tree near the entrance, her pink t-shirt and loose jeans looking wildly out-of-place amongst the older crowd.

"Woah, what are you doing here? Are you lost?" a girl who was probably sixteen asked her.

"You don't belong here," another boy a good foot and a half taller than Grace said with concern. "Where do you live?"

Grace thought it was ridiculous that somehow in their eyes a nine-year-old was a baby, but an eleven-year-old? _Sure,_ pass her the bottle.

"I'm here to get my sister," she said, her blue eyes looking up at the two of them. "Excuse me." The two older kids stood in stunned silence as they watched the young girl walk right up to the tree and then scale it, dropping a coat at its base.

"Flo, are you okay?" Grace asked once she reached the top, carefully perching herself on a branch next to Florence.

Florence nodded as she stared straight ahead, her dark hair falling out of the braid she had put it in. Her shallow breaths smelled of alcohol, and Grace was relieved that it looked like they hadn't given her anything worse.

"Com'on, let's go home," Grace said with a squeeze of her hand. Florence didn't speak, only nodding along to everything Grace said.

When they reached the ground, Grace wrapped Florence's coat around her shoulders, and then snaked an arm around her waist, giving her sister's body the support it needed for the short walk home.

"Quiet," Grace said, turning to Florence once they reached their house. She once again maneuvered the front door open without a sound.

"Gracie," Florence whispered, suddenly looking pale as they stepped over the threshold. "I don't—I think I'm—" and then Florence was throwing up in the corner of the foyer.

"Okay, okay," Grace said, quickly sweeping her sister's hair into one hand and putting the other on her shoulder while Florence's body convulsed with each turn of her stomach. "You're okay."

"I'm sorry," Florence said when she was done, swaying as she stood up.

Grace only shook her head. "Don't worry about it, I'm just glad I found you." Florence nodded, her face looking tired and sad. "Go wash up and go to bed, I got it."

"Thank you Gracie," Florence said, hugging her little sister tight before disappearing up the stairs.

That night, Grace stayed with Florence in the bottom bunk, holding her tight as her head spun from the alcohol. She had given up trying to convince Florence to stop going to the park, knowing that as stubborn as she was, Florence was never going to listen to her.

"Do you think we're going to have to leave this house?" Grace asked innocently from behind Florence's shoulder after a couple of hours of silence.

"I hope not," Florence said meekly, her little hiding spots throughout the house and garden too precious to think about giving up. "Do you think they're going to marry other people?"

"I hope not," Grace said in return. She buried her face deeper into Florence's sweatshirt, not wanting to think about all the possible outcomes of their parent's announcement.

Around three in the morning, there was a knock at their door followed by a sniffle. The door creaked open, and JJ's face appeared. His big eyes were swollen and red, and snot glistened beneath his nose before he wiped it away with his sleeve. "I can't sleep," he said, his voice tiny and hurt.

"Come on," Florence said gently without hesitation, moving herself over on her small twin bed and lifting up her yellow duvet.

JJ was only six, and Florence and Grace shared a painful look as he tucked his small body under the blanket. He was too young to pick up on the clues that their parents had been dropping for months; too young to comprehend not having both his parents living under the same roof. He probably hadn't even heard of the word "divorce" before that particular night.

"I'm scared," he whispered as tears collected on the side of his nose. He tucked his face into Florence's pillow. "I want them to go back to normal," he said, each of his breaths catching in his chest. He was crying in that awful way that little kids do, the way that makes you want to rip your own heart out just to make it stop.

"J, everything is going to be okay," Grace said, wrapping an arm around their brother. "And even if it's not, you can always come to me and Flo, okay?"

JJ nodded and took several deep breaths, willing himself to stop crying. Florence could feel a little puddle of tears forming on her own pillow. She moved herself to join her siblings, reaching her lanky arm around both Grace and JJ.

The three of them all cried themselves to sleep that night, wondering if anything in the world would ever feel right again.

—

"How are you holding up, Flo?" Grace asks around midnight. JJ had gone back to hotel room he and Grace were sharing after they had spent a few hours catching up on everything from JJ's annoying roommate, to Bonnie's new obsession with paint, to the pictures of the baby that Florence had been obsessively collecting and carefully tucking away in the front cover of her journal. It all felt surreally adult, especially when little, baby JJ had told Florence that he was proud of her in the same way she did for him when he was accepted into medical school.

Florence closes her eyes and forces her lips into a tight smile in an attempt to ward off crying. "I'm not okay Grace."

"I'm sorry Flo," Grace says sympathetically. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"  
Florence laughs as tears start to build, and then bites her cheek as she tries to comb through everything that had happened the last few days.

She remains silent, and Grace rephrases her question. "What's weighing on your mind the most right now?"

Florence looks over at her sister who is lying next to her in the small bed. "The baby."

"Okay, do you want to tell me what's happening with the baby?"

She shakily inhales. "Ehm, basically, the baby is way smaller than they should be, and that's because there's not enough fluid around them. Which is why I'm not showing much and is apparently part of the reason that I passed out in the first place."

Grace nods and grabs Florence's hand. "What can they do for that?"

Florence shakes her head. "Not much. They have me on medications, and apparently sometimes it spontaneously just gets better, but other times they have to deliver really, really early which is... scary."

"I get that Flo, I get that. But it sounds like there's not much you can do, right? So of course you're going to be nervous, but there's no point in letting it control all your thoughts. You remember everything I went through with Bonnie—I really regret how I let that ruin the experience of being pregnant, and I don't want that to happen to you."

Florence nods. "Yeah," she whispers, not sure what else there is to say.

"So after the baby, what else is on your mind? It seems like there's more."

Florence swallows hard, unsure if she wants to even open that can of worms with her sister. Her chest starts to feel tight again, and she frantically tries to blink the tears away.

"What is it? Are you scared about doing this on your own?" Grace asks. Florence shakes her head. "Did Dad say something while he was here?" _Nope._ "Are you worried about the tour?" _Yes, but not quite the most pressing issue._ "Did something happen with Isa or Rob?" Florence hesitantly nods her head. "Is it Isa?" Grace asks, softening her voice as she tucks stray strands of Florence's hair behind her ears.

"Yeah," Florence says, barely any sound coming out of her mouth.

"I heard she got the gig in Canada." Florence nods at Grace's statement, not able to formulate words. "How do you feel about it?" Florence shrugs her shoulders as she absentmindedly stares at the ceiling.

Grace studies her sister, first looking at her hair sticking to her head, then at her eyes that look like they're drooping downwards more than normal. Her skin is so pale she can see the intricate little webs of veins on her temples. “Is that not it?" Grace asks slowly.

Florence looks back and forth between her sister's eyes, simultaneously wanting to tell her absolutely everything and nothing at all. "It's, ehm—yeah, I think it's a bit more than that."

Grace's heart pounds as she thinks back to the night Florence drunkenly called her in tears, screaming through the phone that Isa was making out with someone that wasn't her. Grace was only eighteen at the time and she had nearly forgotten about it, thinking that Florence was just being her needy, drunk self; but now hundreds of memories flood into Grace's mind, and everything starts making sense.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Grace asks gently, already having an idea of exactly what was going on.

"Not really," Florence whispers.

"Okay, that's okay. We can talk when you're ready."

Florence exhales and silently thanks god that her sister was never one to ask too many questions.

Florence wakes a few hours later, her sense of time completely warped from sitting in the same room for going on five days. She looks over to find Grace staring at the monitors on the side of the bed, clearly wide awake.

"Gracie?" she says tentatively, like she used to when they were kids and she was convinced there was something hiding in their closet. "I think I love her."

Grace turns around in the bed to look at her sister to see if she could read anything from her face. She briefly debates pretending she had no idea about the two of them before realizing it would be pointless. "I know, Flo," Grace says as delicately as possible. It isn't like Florence had ever seriously been with a girl or indicated that she might want to be, or even that Grace was expecting this, per se. It was just that after almost 20 years of watching the two of them interact, this all made perfect sense. She watches Florence's cheeks twitch and her mouth quiver in the soft glow of the screens as she begins to cry. "I know, I know," Grace repeats in a whisper, gently wrapping an arm around her sister.

Florence's body shakes, and Grace wonders just how deeply this all goes. "I fucked it all up," Florence says in the breath of a single sob.

"Shh, I'm sure you didn't. What happened Flo?"

"I just—I don't think—I don't want to start anything with her because— _this_ ," Florence says, motioning her arms first around the hospital room, and then to her abdomen. "But then at the same time, we never would have even gotten close again if it weren't for it all?" Florence sharply inhales as a sob takes over her chest. "I don't even know what I'm saying anymore."

Grace takes a second to process it all. "What do you mean by 'not wanting to start anything with her'?"

Florence wonders if this counts as her first "official" coming out. Sure, Grace had seen her make out with tons of girls, and had even heard stories of her hooking up with a few when the two of them would go out for breakfast on Sunday mornings hungover after Saturday-night parties, but to want to be in a relationship with one? With _Isa_ of all people?

"I mean, we talked for hours the other night, and agreed that we want to work on a relationship."

"Okay," Grace says cautiously. "That makes sense." It's the second time Florence was told that makes sense in regards to her relationship with Isa, and it makes her head spin to think that both Rob and Grace could so plainly accept something that she thought was absolutely out of question. "How did that conversation come about?"

It's a loaded question, and poor Grace doesn't even know it.

Florence stares at the ceiling, biting her cheek and fiddling with her fingers as she tries to come up with a plan of how she is going to explain everything to Grace.

"Ehm, I guess I have a bit to fill you in on over the past, um, 10 or so years?"

Florence and Grace talk well into the early hours of the morning, going through the chronicles of Florence's and Isa's ever evolving relationship over the past decade. Grace listens quietly, only asking little questions to keep Florence talking whenever she would trail off. She cries when Florence cries, and smiles when Florence smiles. She rests her head on Florence's shoulder when she finally becomes tired, analyzing her every word as Florence continues to unload every thought, every nightmare, every funny memory.

She's not sure when they fell asleep, but Grace wakes up to the sliding door quietly moving to the side of the bed. She is startled by the presence of Isa standing in the light of the doorway.

"Grace?" Isa whispers. "Why—how... what are you doing here?" she says quietly, feeling bad that she woke her up.

"I came for a visit," Grace says with a small smile. "Better question is, how did _you_ get in here? It's like they're running a prison here with all the visitor rules."

"Well, you get certain special rights when you are the _fiancé_ ," Isa says, putting the word in air quotes, "of the popstar in residence."

Grace's eyes go wide and she smirks in fake amusement. " _Ah_ , you'll have to tell me about that later," Grace replies quietly as Florence's deep, slow breaths fill the room with gentle sound.

Isa takes a deep breath and then makes a bold move considering she's not sure how much Florence has told Grace. "Coffee?" she mouths, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the door.

Grace nods and carefully moves Florence's arm off her before slipping on her shoes and walking the bright hallways with Isa down to the café.

"What has she told you?" Isa asks bluntly once they are both situated at a little table with foamy lattes. It is only a bit past 6:30 and haggard looking doctors and nurses surround them, each in their own little worlds.

Grace squirms in her seat, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable sitting face to face with the girl she'd known since she was eleven.

"Well, we fell asleep somewhere in the middle of our discussion, but she told me mostly everything." Grace stirs her coffee as the words from Florence's mouth start coming back to her. "I think," she slowly adds.

Isa sighs, knowing full well that Florence probably told her _everything_ everything, finally given the opportunity. "I know this is probably a lot to process."

"It's not really, Iz. I'm more surprised I didn't see this coming earlier."

Isa doesn't know how to reply, so she just turns her eyes downward to study the mug of coffee in front of her.

"Are you okay?" Grace asks.

Isa nods slowly. "I think so. She's been acting strange with me and I don't really know what it's about."

"I think she's just had a lot to process in a very short amount of time. She'll be okay, she probably just needs some space to think," Grace says. She doesn't know if now is an appropriate time to bring up her concerns, but her mouth moves before her brain can say no. "But like, what do you want from this, Iz? You know I love you like a sister, but she's just so vulnerable right now and I don't want either of you getting hurt."

Isa feels her heart catch in her throat at Grace's directness. "I mean, I don't know. We talked a lot the other night, and it's stupid that we didn't see this sooner. Like, we had both seen it separately, but things just never aligned. So I guess now we want to try to make this work."

"With a baby a few months away? When you're moving to Canada next year?"

Isa swallows hard and her eyes begin to glisten with tears.

Grace reaches across the table and gently takes Isa's hand in her own. "I'm sorry, that came out harsher than I wanted it to. I'm just worried, for both of you Iz. I wasn't exactly expecting this and I just want to make sure you have both really thought through everything before you jump into anything, I hope you can understand that."

Isa nods. "Yeah, yeah. The two of us definitely have a lot to talk about."

Grace stares into her coffee, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the whole of the situation. Without even realizing it, she starts crying, placing her face in her hands.

Isa is taken aback but the sudden burst of emotion from Grace, who was always the level-headed one while they were growing up. "Hey, hey," Isa says, moving herself around the table to sit next to Grace, delicately placing a hand on her back. "Tell me what's wrong."

Grace shakily inhales, trying to control her tears with deep breaths. "I just—like, I've always been by Flo to protect her, and we've always managed to find a way out of bad situations, and it's just like... how do we get out of this one? There's nothing I can do. It's not like I can just walk her home and force her to go to bed with this. I know nothing about medicine, or doctors, or how to make her feel like not finishing this tour is okay."

By now Isa's crying too, someone putting to words how she's been feeling the last 3 months. "Yeah, I get that. But you also somehow, I'm assuming, managed to get off work, take a ten-hour flight, and then spend the entire night talking to her. I don't think there's much more you can do beyond that Grace, and even that was truly unexpected. She loves you more than the world, you don't have to do anything but simply be." Isa stares at the blonde, thinking about how her face hadn’t changed much since the time she was eleven. "I know that probably doesn't make sense, but trust me, she'll be okay."

Grace and Isa return to the room at about half past nine after Isa all but forces Grace to join her and Rob for breakfast. As they enter, Florence is cackling about some funny story JJ is telling her from the chair in the corner of the room.

Florence smiles up at Grace from her spot on the bed, her green eyes bright and alert for the first time in days. "Grace, do you remember when we went to that Beatles costume party and JJ got drunk?"

Grace lets out a huge laugh. "Oh my _god_ , I forgot about that," Grace says, remembering the song themed costumes they had worn. "You were what J, ten? Eleven?"

JJ chuckles. "I was _too young_."

Florence looks better, her hair secured in a neat bun and wearing a set of green silk pyjamas that Grace had brought for her from her house knowing that she never packed her favorites out of fear of losing them in the midst of touring.

"Who are you dressed all fancy for?" Isa asks, testing the waters after her long conversation with Grace. She somehow felt better about everything after Grace had reminded her of Florence's tendency to push people away when she gets overwhelmed.

Florence laughs. "Oh you know, I had to dress up fancy for JJ since I only see him like _once a year_ now."

"Okay, _ouch_ ," JJ says feigning insult. "You say that like you didn't basically disappear off the face of the planet for four years straight when you were my age."

"Eh," Grace says in disagreement. "Maybe we didn't see her much, but could you walk two blocks without _hearing_ her? It was like she never left." Everyone laughs heartily before Grace breaks into her own rendition of the song that haunted the entirety of England for all of 2010.

"SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE THROWING MY HANDS UP IN THE AIR," she sings, attempting and failing fantastically to hit a run.

Florence tries to act insulted but can't help but break into uncontrollable laughter with the rest of them as JJ claps along and Isa attempts to harmonize.

And for a moment, everything is okay.

Not perfect, not outstanding. Not even great.

But nonetheless—okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, currently applying to graduate schools and I've had no time to sit down and write... comments are always appreciated :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> c/w: depiction of an anxiety attack, non-explicit mention of an eating disorder

A week before the last show in Monterrey is scheduled, Dr. Singh calls to give Florence her blessing to perform, granted that she keeps it to an hour, stays seated the entire time, and _promises_ her to cut it short if she feels anything less than perfect. In the comfort of her small hotel room, Florence asks Isa to bring up her small wardrobe of gowns that were reserved for shows. With Grace, Isa, and Rob sitting in a line on the bed, Florence goes back and forth from the bathroom, trying on every last item in the wardrobe.

Unsurprisingly, not even one of the dresses manage to hide her bump, no matter what she wears underneath it or how loose she leaves it in the back.

Florence panics and briefly considers cancelling the show like they had done with the two others, simply citing "health concerns" and leaving it at that.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Florence says frantically, turning around from the hotel mirror to face Isa, Rob, and Grace. She is in full anxiety mode, her head already jumbled from the various doctors she had met with before finally being discharged from the hospital earlier in the day. "How the _fuck_ am I going to hide this?"

"Flo, hey, slow down. We can find something," Rob says calmly. "It's going to be okay."

"But like, if I don't wear him," Florence says, referring to Alessandro, "people will _know_ there's something up."

All three of them sigh, knowing that while it was a bit of a reach to think that people would be able to deduce that Florence was pregnant because she simply departed from her normal wardrobe, it _would_ be odd for Florence to show up in something that wasn't distinctly Alessandro.

So just three days before the show, Grace calls him from Florence's phone after Florence refuses to do it herself. Isa had snuck Florence's phone out of their room after Flo fell asleep, and the two of them sit on Grace's bed, listening to the dial tone before he finally picks up.

"Florence dear, it's good to hear from you," he says cheerfully. "How are you doing?"

Grace cringes, feeling wildly out-of-place speaking to the well-known designer. "Hello, I'm good, thanks. This actually isn't Florence, I'm Grace, her little sister."

"Oh, well it's quite nice to meet you Grace," Alessandro replies, taken slightly aback. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, yes, everything is fine. I actually wanted to call you to see—well, I know this is a huge request, and you are more than welcome to say no—but, we were wondering if you would be able to quickly make Florence a gown for a show."

"Of course, of course, I can make time. I have to ask though, are they not working out? The ones we made in December?"

"No, no, it's not that," Grace says adamantly, feeling bad that he sounded hurt. "It's just, ehm, her gowns aren't fitting her as well as they did a few months ago and we wanted to know if you could make just one to get her through one last show."

"One _last_ show?" he asks before quickly letting it go. "I'm sure I could get something together. Is she available to speak?"

Grace looks to Isa, who was already shaking her head. _There's no way_ , Isa mouths.

"I don't think so," Grace says. "She's, ehm... she's actually sleeping right now, but she has not been up to talking to people."

"Are you sure she's okay?" Alessandro questions.

 _Can I tell him?_ Grace mouths to Isa. Isa simply shrugs, not really knowing how close Alessandro and Florence were.

"So here's the thing," Grace says, hoping that her sister wouldn't kill her. "This is very much under wraps, but she's expecting. Which is why the gowns aren't fitting her. So... yeah."

"Oh," Alessandro replies simply. "You had me worried that the poor girl had gotten even smaller. Do you have something to write with? I'm just going to need you to get some measurements and I'll have something sent out by Saturday night."

"Yeah, of course, thank you so much," Grace says as she fumbles for a pen on the bedside table, absolutely relieved. Alessandro lists off about twenty very specific measurements he needs, and finally bounces some ideas off her before bringing their conversation to a close.

"So just a classic slip gown with simple embellishments? Just— _Florence-ish_ I suppose?"

"That sounds fantastic."

"Okay will do. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate."

"We appreciate it more than you know, I'll send the measurements your way tomorrow morning," Grace says earnestly.

"And Grace? Would you tell her I said congratulations? That is very exciting news."

Isa returns to Florence's room around midnight, quietly slipping under the covers behind her. The night before in the hospital, Florence had apologized to Isa following another long conversation with Grace. Though she still felt extremely uncertain with everything, Florence was just happy that Isa so willingly forgave her and slipped back into their nightly rituals.

"What were you gone so long for?" Florence asks groggily, settling herself into Isa's arms.

"Sorry I woke you up," Isa replies, nestling her face into damp red hair that smells of lavender shampoo. "I was hanging with Grace."

"Mm," Florence hums as reality begins to wash back over her. She can feel the baby moving ever so slightly as Isa's hand moves over her waist. She lays in the comfort of Isa's gentle hands and fluffy hotel linen for a few minutes before speaking. "Iz, do you think I'm going to be able to get away with this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, hiding a whole pregnancy."

Isa pauses before answering. "I think if you want to, you will." They hadn't discussed how Florence was going to go about announcing—or hiding—the arrival of a child with the public. Before fully realizing that Florence was eventually going to definitively be showing, none of them had even thought about that subject. After the near meltdown a few nights ago, however, it was now pressing on all their minds.

"I'm scared."

"Why Flo?" Isa gently asks, brushing her damp hair to the side before kissing her bare shoulder. "Let's talk it through."

"I guess, like—I dunno, maybe this is going to sound stupid, but I feel like people are going to judge me? Like, it's going to be pretty clear that this child didn't come from a proper relationship."

Isa doesn't know how to reply, because frankly, _it is the truth_ ; but she also knew that Florence's fans wouldn't question her, and surely wouldn't put up with any media that tried to. "I mean, okay, but there are tons of people these days who decide to have children while they're single. It's not exactly uncommon, it's just that you didn't exactly _decide_ that before it was handed to you, you know?"

"Yeah," Florence says in hesitant agreement, feeling soothed by Isa's soft fingertips running up and down her side. "I suppose."

"So what else?"

Florence sighs. "This is also going to sound stupid."

"Guarantee you it won't."

Florence sighs deeply before taking Isa's hand and kissing it repeatedly. "I kind of want this to be my little secret. This just feels so precious, and I don't want that to be ruined by other people. Like, part of me wants the entire world to know about this, and another part of me wants to go move to like, I don't know, _Switzerland,_ and never be in the vicinity of a camera ever again."

"Well you know, you could move to the middle of Canada, which is basically the same thing," Isa offers up only half-jokingly.

"Isa..." Florence replies softly but sternly. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"I know, I know," Isa says in apology. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine, it's just...I don't even want to think about it."

"I know, I'm sorry I even said it," Isa whispers before changing the subject. "So, are you just going to leave the end of the tour at 'I've been having health issues'?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't even want to think about having to make an announcement like that," Florence says with a shudder. "Could you even imagine? It was hard enough even saying that I was having health issues the other day," she says, referencing the carefully worded Instagram post that had been posted two days prior.

"It wouldn't be easy."

"No, it wouldn't."

Isa moves herself so she can kiss Florence's neck, then temple, then behind her ear. "But if anyone could do it, it's you."

—

Three days and a plane ride later, they are in an auditorium in Monterrey, ready to play what is going to be the last show for a _very_ long time, unbeknownst to the crowd waiting for them. "Florence, you look beautiful," Isa says, sitting down next to her before gently pressing her lips to Florence's cheek after she noticed her glassy eyes in the small backstage area. Florence is wearing a floor-length silk gown that had been priority mailed from Alessandro himself. Her hair is up in plaits after Grace quietly offered to braid it like she used to often do for her sister on tour many years ago, and it all feels weird, like she had abruptly departed from an era that she held so closely to her heart.

 _to flo, my love, i hope you feel the most love in the world during this last show. i cannot wait to make some very tiny clothes for the little one. see you soon xx_ the note enclosed with the dress had read. The dress was absolutely stunning—cream-colored with delicate pink roses embroidered along the sleeves and hem, and big sleeves that billowed with every small movement. There was no defined waist to the dress, falling plainly over Florence's figure. Had she been given it to wear to a shoot, or a red carpet, or an event, she would have been crying tears of happiness, of adoration. 

In this situation, though, she is crying because the beautiful dress is just another sign that everything has changed.

—

The night "Hunger" was released, Florence had a full-blown anxiety attack that required the presence of Grace, Sophie, and after a few frantic phone calls, Isa, to bring her down from.

"I feel like I can't get in air," Florence had said through her shallow breaths. "I can't—I can't do this," Florence said, sprawled out on the tiles of her kitchen floor.

"Okay, you need to breathe," Grace said as she moved herself so that Florence was leaning back against her. Sophie wordlessly arrived at Florence's side with a glass of water and medication that her doctor had prescribed ages ago for occasions just like this one.

"Nope, not happening," Florence said as soon as she saw the white tablet in Sophie's hand. It was a drug that she had been all too familiar with only a few years earlier, back when she was taking it without the careful eye (or approval) of a doctor. Florence was soaked with sweat and could barely breathe, yet she was coherent enough to know she didn't want to mess with her sobriety.

"Florence," Sophie said lovingly but sternly, "there is a reason you have this. You're going to pass out at the rate you're going. Please just take it or we're going to end up having to take you to A&E."

Florence wished that Isa was there. It had been years since she had an attack like this one, and it was the first time in a _very_ long time that she didn't have Isa by her side to get her back to baseline. After years together, Isa had learned exactly how to wrap herself around Florence and take big deep breaths, willing her to follow her lead. Isa always knew when to slowly remove herself, and would then spend time rubbing Florence's back until she fell asleep or was up to taking a walk. Isa was the reason the bottles of Xanax sitting in her cabinet and suitcase had gone untouched for years.

"Isa," Grace had said on the phone after over an hour of trying to get Florence out of the attack. "It's Grace... yeah, it's good to hear from you too. Listen Flo is having a major anxiety attack... no, she's lucid... she's really sweaty and she's breathing really shallow... yeah, she's refusing to take it... no but—I know, I know... is there any chance you could come over?"  


Isabella Summers had known the second she first heard that song that Florence was going to regret it. "What do you think?" Florence had asked meekly after the first time she played it for her when Isa was visiting New York that December. Isa told her bluntly that she thought she was crazy, but made sure to accompany it with a tight hug in the small studio they were sat in. Florence had only ever told her and Grace about the eating disorder that started when she first arrived on the music scene, so the thought of her dear friend opening that part of herself up to the entire world scared Isa to death. That song had weighed heavily on Isa's mind in the following weeks, but she eventually decided to follow Florence's lead after she had explained that she felt the need to "embrace" it so she could fully move past it. Florence had never been one to explicitly share her personal life in songs, but Isa thought that maybe the combination of getting sober and growing older had made Florence more confident and willing to open up.

When she arrived at Florence's house that cool May night, however, she knew Florence was still the same shy, anxious girl she had met 17 years prior.

"Oh Flo, babe," she said upon seeing Florence leaned back against the cabinets, barely able to open her eyes. "I'm here, we're all here, you're going to be okay."

After getting her up and on to the sofa, gently convincing her to take the medication, and slowly breathing in and out in time with her for a good half-hour, Florence was finally able to speak coherently.

"What's on your mind Flo?" Grace asked, perched in front of her sister who was sat on the sofa with Isa and Sophie on either side of her.

"I don't want people to hear it."

"It's a little late for that love," Isa softly responded with a squeeze of her hand. "Why though?"

"I just—I wish I could go back and take out that first line. I don't know what I was thinking." Her face was pale and tear stained, and Isa wished that this night felt more like more like the other release nights they had shared where they would happily party through the early hours of the morning, and then go on Twitter for hours, lying in bed and looking through reactions and waiting for reviews to come in.

"So it's a little late to change that line," Sophie says. "But Flo, think back to why you wanted to put it there in the first place. Don't you think that it's going to help people? That it's going to prevent some teenage girl from doing exactly what you did?"

Florence shrugs.

"It is, Flo," Isa says. "The fact that it's painful to say means you need to say it. Sometimes the saddest things must be sung."

All three of them stayed with Florence that night. Sophie carefully snuck Florence's phone away and tucked it in her bag while Grace cooked a very late dinner and Isa sat with Florence on her bed as the clock struck midnight.

"You know I'm so proud of you, right?" Isa said, referring to the song, to the fact that Florence had recovered, that she was brave enough to tell Isa, then her sister about it in the first place all those years ago.

Florence was zoned out, staring at a wall as she sat with her chin resting on her knees. "I still haven't even told my parents."

Isa sighed as she began to fully comprehend the impending repercussions of the song. She moved so that Florence could lean her side on to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Never let me share anything personal ever again," Florence said with a finality. "I'm serious. If I even _suggest_ it, you shut it down. Got me?"  
Isa hesitantly nodded "Maybe let's go back to the metaphors?"

Florence nodded back in agreement as she deeply exhaled. "I think I like the metaphors a whole lot better."

—

"Can I have a moment to myself?" Florence asks five minutes before the show in Monterrey is supposed to begin. They had gone through their ritual of singing June and taking a moment of silence together, and now Florence needed the privacy to go through with her plan that she purposefully hadn't told anyone about. "I'm seriously fine, I just want a minute."

"Yeah," Rob says as he moves towards the door, willing Grace, Tom, and Isa to follow. "Do you want us to wait for you before we go out?"

"No," Florence replies casually. "I'll be ready to go at 9, promise. I'll just see you out there."

She gets up and hugs each of them, the weight of knowing that this could very well be the last show ever heavy on each of their minds.

After everyone else leaves the room, Rob wraps his arms tightly around her, resting his chin on top of her head. "You're gonna crush it," Rob says as he holds her close. "I love you, and I'm so fucking proud of you."

"I love you too," Florence says, suddenly getting emotional. She pulls away from him with a half-hearted laugh. "Heavy fucking metal!" she shakily says through her teary eyes, trying to lighten the mood with a joke that had started between her, Rob, and Chris over a decade ago. She quickly wipes the tears from under her eyes with the back of her hand, and gives him her best attempt at a smile.

"Heavy fucking metal," Rob says back with a reassuring smile. He gives one last quick hug sealed by a kiss on top of her head before gently closing the door behind him.

At nine on the dot, the band files out to their respective places and the crowd cheers, creating a welcoming wall of sound. After doing a quick survey to make sure everyone is ready, Isa begins the opening notes of June, the steady octaves of _F, F, F_ , ringing out as Florence makes her entrance. The crowd loudly cheers like they do at every show, but there is a weird sort of collective gasp that Isa hears as Florence begins singing. As Florence makes her way to the stool waiting for her in front of the mic stand, Isa quickly notices something.

Florence isn't in the new gown.

She is in the light blue one.

The one that Grace told her—as politely as she could when they were back in the hotel—made her look very, _very_ pregnant.

It is zipped all the way up, hugging Florence's body in a way that meant there was nothing to hide.

Isa feels like she could pass out as the crowd confusingly cheers and whispers and shouts. Florence's voice cracks the whole way through the song, and Rob is thinking of a million different ways the show could go. After catching a glimpse of Florence on one of the big screens, Dionne looks worriedly at Aku, who tries to focus his energy on the song rather than trying to figure out what would possess Florence to make such a bold and irrevocable move.

Through all their worry though, Florence is wiping tears from her eyes as the audience greets her with a thunderous standing ovation at the conclusion of the song. In the four minutes that the song took to perform, most of them were able to figure out what was her "health concern" was for themselves. They had just witnessed a clearly pregnant Florence Welch take to the stage, singing seated with one hand on her rounded abdomen and one hand on the mic. The audience continues to applaud for a good three minutes as one by one, the band comes down and joins Florence, forming an embrace around her as she weeps with emotion. She shakes in Isa's arms as Rob gently places his hands on her shoulders. The rest of them form a sort of protective privacy barrier around them, wrapping their arms around each other. She's cried on stage plenty of times before, but none felt quite as cleansing as this.

Once there is a lull in the applause, Florence takes the opportunity to begin speaking into the mic as her friends stand in a line, their arms wrapped around her and each other. "So I have some explaining to do," she says with a laugh, her quiet voice echoing in the auditorium as she wipes at her eyes. The audience begins cheering again, lovingly encouraging her to go on. "So, I'm sure as many of you have heard, we've had to unfortunately cancel a few shows, but I'm so glad to be here tonight...I had a bit of a scare in Miami, and I spent awhile recovering, but I am so glad to be here, Monterrey." She waits for the cheers to die down before beginning her next statement. "My sister told me that this dress makes it particularly obvious, but I wanted to tell you all myself that I'm actually... ehm, I am... expecting," she says very slowly, her voice barely above a whisper as the crowd enthusiastically applauds. She buries her face in her hands, feeling overwhelmed by the warm response from the crowd. Rob crouches down to her level on the stool and tightly wraps his arms around her while whispering lines of gentle encouragement into her ear. He pulls away with a kiss on her cheek, and then Isa does the same. The crowd continues to cheer as each of them make their rounds to Florence, giving her big hugs and words of love.

"So, I didn't tell them I was going to do this," Florence says, slightly calmed down after having a minute to compose herself with the band. "So they're all a bit surprised. And my little sister, Grace is here, and Grace, I'm sorry, I love you," she says, sending a kiss out into the darkness of the crowd. "She actually had an entire dress made for me, like she took the measurements and everything, and then I come out here in the dress she specifically told me not to wear." The audience laughs and cheers. "I'm sorry Grace, and with that, I want you all to join me in telling her exactly how loved she is," she finishes as she looks to Hazel, figuring that she might as well sing the song she had written for her as long as the tears were already flowing.

—

The first newborn baby Florence ever held was Bonnie, just three days after she was born.

Florence had gotten back from a week recording in LA just in time to celebrate her 30th birthday with friends and family, and was excited to finally have some time to herself after the whirlwind of touring and then immediately going back to the states to write and record.

A dinner had been booked, a lunch date with Felix had been set, and a cake had already been baked by the time Grace called around 10 in the morning to let her know her water had broken.

"Enjoy your day though, Flo. It's probably going to take awhile," Grace had said genuinely.

"What? No, no, no. I've ruined enough of your birthdays that it's my turn. I want to be there Gracie. Just let me know when you get to hospital."

"Aren't you supposed to be spending the day with Felix?" Grace asked worriedly, knowing that their relationship was beginning to get a bit rocky.

"It's not important, okay? I mean it. He'll be fine," Florence replied, not knowing if it was the truth. 

When she called him right after getting off the phone with Grace, he wasn't exactly _pleased_ about it.

"Flo, I haven't seen you in three months. Every time we've been in the same city you've had something come up. I know this is different, but I'm sure she'll be okay for the next three hours. It usually goes pretty slow from what I understand. I came all the way back just for today."

Florence sighed into the phone. "You know how complicated this pregnancy has been, I feel horrible enough that I haven't been home for all of it. I'm sorry, I'll make it up. I'll probably be home tonight, you still have the key, right?"

"Yeah, it's just—" he stumbled, not knowing how to nicely express his disappointment. "Let me know if they need anything, I can always stop by. I'll see you later."

When Florence arrived at the hospital around eleven, she thanked god she hadn't waited as a nurse rushed her behind large double doors, past the waiting room where her mum and dad and Dan's parents all sat.

"She's been asking for you," the nurse said with a worried expression on her face. When Florence got to Grace's room, there was an entire entourage of doctors around her bed as she cried out in excruciating pain.

"Hey, hey, I'm here," Florence said as she rushed to Grace's side across from Dan, who looked even paler than her sister did. Grace only grabbed her hand in reply, crushing it in hers as the next bout of pain coursed through her body.

In a matter of what seemed like seconds, Bonnie was in the world and quickly rushed away to be evaluated.

Grace cried and cried as Dan and Florence embraced her, and Florence couldn't remember ever seeing her sister looking so weak and vulnerable.

"Do you want to have kids?" Felix asked that night from his side of the bed. It was such a stereotypical question, and Florence wasn't sure she was ready to answer it.

"Ehm, I don't think so," she replied quietly.

Suddenly, he snapped out of his tired state, propping himself up on his elbow as he turned to face her.

"Seriously? Like, you have no desire to have kids at all?"

Florence pondered the question, then shook her head. "No, no. I don't think I'd do well with kids."

Felix laughs. "Flo, what? You'd be good with kids, you practically are one."

Florence bit her cheek at the comment. She was getting sick of him constantly questioning and joking about her maturity, but she never knew how to tell him so it only continued. "Yep, just two kids, wanting kids of their own—because that would make sense," she said just barely audibly as she turned away from him and fell asleep.

A few days later Grace was scheduled for a litany of tests and out of the room for most of the day. As Florence sat alone in the room waiting for her sister's return, a nurse came and asked Florence if she would want to hold Bonnie since both Grace and Dan were away. "I would love to," Florence had replied, quickly ditching the book she was reading to follow the nurse out of the room and down a long hallway.

When they reached the nursery, Florence was allowed entrance into the room that she had only been able to see from a glass window before. Her tiny niece was in a small, clear bassinet, a baby sized oxygen tube in her nose and a few electrode pads across her chest. Her head was covered in little tufts of white-blonde hair, and her cheeks were round and rosy pink. Florence could feel her heart pounding as a nurse explained the benefits of skin-to-skin contact as she gently placed the little baby under Florence's loose t-shirt and onto the skin of her upper chest and shoulder.

"We normally have the parents do this, but we like to have it done consistently so we'll take anyone willing. I'll give you some time alone, just shout or press the call button if you need anything," the nurse said with a smile.

Florence nodded her head as the nurse walked away, feeling a little scared that she was trusted with holding such a small human. "Hi," Florence cooed to the baby, placing a hand on her back and gently placing her cheek on the top of her head. "I'm your auntie," she said as the baby let out a tiny yawn before bobbling her head back to Florence's chest. Florence sat in awe, studying every inch of the little baby that had given her sister so much trouble.

At some point, Florence and Bonnie had both fallen asleep, and Florence's eyes opened to the sight of Grace sitting in a chair beside her.

"Hi," Grace said in a drawn out whisper, smiling at her older sister. "I've just been staring at you two for the last hour, I'm glad someone's finally up."

"Creep," Florence said plainly in reply, keeping a gentle hand across the baby's back as her lips turned up into a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. My bloodwork was better, and it seems like I'm healing okay."

Florence reached for her sister’s hand between the chairs. "I love you Grace."

Grace smiled at Florence and squeezed her hand, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by how far they had come. Here they were, Florence holding Grace's baby, completely sober, and plainly telling each other that they loved each other.

"I love you the most."

—

  
Back stage after the show, Isa doesn't even attempt to be subtle as she engulfs Florence in a hug before taking her face in her hands and planting a firm kiss on her lips. "I don't know what the fuck you were thinking," Isa says, still holding on to Florence's shoulders as the others watch on, "but I am so incredibly proud of you." Tom, and _especially_ Rob, aren't surprised by the gesture, simply grinning at the two of their friends. The new kids aren't sure how to react, but do a good job of keeping whatever thoughts are going through their heads to themselves.

Florence smiles, overwhelmed by the relief she feels. Soon enough Grace has joined all of them, and they all gather round as Florence explains that she's admitted to far sadder things—namely, things she sings every night to thousands of people without giving a second thought, so why not finally talk about something happy?

That night, while Isa is in the shower, Florence scribbles a phrase into the journal over and over again like a mantra under the plush hotel covers.

_The saddest things must be sung._

_The saddest things must be sung._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helllllooooo I'm so sorry it's been a minute, its midterm and application szn y'all!!! i've been reading and rereading and slowly working on this chapter for the past month and now my mind is numb even looking at it so apologizes if there's major tense issues or typos that I didn't catch. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, I love reading each and every one of them! Hopefully I'll post again soon (but no promises). Enjoy! <3


	12. Chapter 12

The plane ride home is quiet, and it's the first time Isa has had a chance to think since that long overdue conversation the first night in the hospital. Florence is awkwardly slumped against Isa's shoulder even though the large seats of the jet they are on should have provided plenty of room to sleep in her own space. It's not the most comfortable arrangement for either of them, yet in the fourth hour of their flight back across the Atlantic, Florence is sound sleep, her gentle breaths falling across Isa's arm.

She looks exhausted, Isa thinks, and for good reason. The schedule they had all endured would drive the most resilient, well organized person mad—let alone a pregnant person who was not exactly known for her sanity. Isa’s arm is going numb, but she doesn't care as long as it means Florence is finally relaxing.

The overwhelming thoughts about the oddness of their whole situation come in waves for Isa, and sitting on the plane, feeling Florence's ribs expand with each breath and watching the way little stray pieces of hair move under the constant flow of air coming from the ceiling make Isa's heart clench. Thirteen years ago, she had driven herself crazy over wanting a relationship with Florence, and now here she is, on a very expensive private jet, dutifully staying still so she can find sleep. Her heart clenches again upon remembering that Florence is pregnant; and again, when she remembers that there are now complications; and the worst thing that makes it feel like her chest is being crushed, is that she is going to have to move to Canada in less than a year's time. It's just wave after wave, a fresh hit every time.

It's funny because it's not that these are things she ever forgets, it's just that they slowly get pushed out of her conscious thoughts into the depths of her mind, and that's when she finds peace. That's when she can sleep, and laugh, and eat without feeling like she might pass out. Then they come back violently out of nowhere, knocking her off her feet. During those times, she just wraps herself around Florence and hopes that it's enough.

As if on cue, Florence stirs awake and Isa is met with clear, blinking green eyes. Isa wraps an arm around her shoulders as she reenters the world, and Florence lightly laughs upon seeing the ridiculous configuration they are in.

"Your neck is going to be crooked if you keep sleeping like that," Isa says sweetly as Florence buries her face into her sweater. Outside, the sun is just at the horizon, making the inside of the plane glow a gentle pink. Isa kisses the crown of her head gently before resigning to slowly running her fingers through Florence's hair while letting her mind meander through her various worries.

She doesn't want to tell Florence about these horrible thoughts that preside over her, the ones that make her feel sick during waking hours. She figures that surely, Florence has enough to think about without having to worry about her too.

Isa should have known, though, that she would figure out in the typical way Florence does. Florence used to scream to anyone who would listen that she could see people's feelings when they were on acid, but Isa is convinced that it's a secret power she’d always possessed but only told people about while under the influence.

"What's wrong?" Florence asks, just barely audible over the whirring of the engine. Isa doesn't hear her at first, and just continues to stare out the window, blinding herself with the orange of the setting sun. "Isa?"

"Hmm?"

"I asked you what's wrong."

Isa furrows her brows. "Nothing, why?"

"Your heart is pounding."

Isa looks at Grace who is sound asleep in the seats across from them. She bites her lip, and then tells a small white lie, not quite yet willing to offer up her thoughts. "It's probably just because I'm tired. I'm sure you are too. Why don't we try to get some sleep?"

Florence looks at her in the eyes for a second too long, as if to say _I know you’re lying_ , but she follows it with a nod. Truth be told, she _is_ too tired to try to push it further. She curls her legs up on to her seat, and lies her head down on Isa's lap. They both spend some time quietly enjoying the other's presence before retreating into the darkness of sunset and sleep.

—

"Isabella," Florence says sternly from her spot under the silk sheets on the bed, "you're _not_ going to do that." They're finally back in London, and Isa and Florence have done nothing but sleep, eat, sleep some more, watch some Bake Off, sleep, and cuddle on repeat for the past 48 hours. At some point in the lazy haze, Canada is brought up, and it is clear that Isa has already made a decision after she casually states that she is going to let them know she is rescinding her acceptance.

" _Yes_ , Flo, I am." Slowly, carefully, Isa amends her statement in a whisper. "I mean, I _did_."

Florence feels a rush of adrenaline hit her body. "What do you _mean_ you did?"

"I mean, it's, ehm—it's done. It's not happening."

Isa had thought long and hard about what it would mean to move to Canada in a year. It would mean either leaving Florence back in London, or Florence coming with her and leaving her family behind. Both of those options made Isa feel sick, so the only thing left to do was call the agent she had met with back in Montreal.

She kept the call short, only saying that she had some personal matters to deal with, and that she deeply regretted that she would be unable to join. He asked her about five-hundred times if she was certain, and then emailed over the form for her to sign, formally resigning from the position she had accepted. It was done in a matter of hours while Florence slept the first day back in London.

"Isa, are you _mad_ ?" Florence asks with a distinct anger in her voice. Isa had been expecting Florence to be surprised, but not upset like this. "What in the _fuck_ were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that my favorite person in the world—and now, _girlfriend_ —is going to have a baby in a few months’ time, and that it would be a real shitty move to abandon her in London while she's trying to handle a baby by herself."

"Oh, so you just went ahead and _assumed_ that I wouldn't want to come with you?" Florence's brows are furrowed, and she is biting her cheek hard as she looks Isa directly in the eyes.

"Flo, I—you— _no_." Isa exhales and reaches out to Florence who is lying across from her on the bed. Already, tears have filled her green eyes, and Isa can tell that they're the angry tears that mean she is either going to run away or have a full-blown anxiety attack within the next five minutes. She tucks Florence's hair behind her ear, and then gently brushes her thumb across her cheek. Hot tears begin hitting the skin of Isa's hand, and soon enough Isa has Florence wrapped up in her securely in her arms as Florence shakes with sobs. "Shh," Isa coos. "You're okay, it’s okay."

Florence lets out cries as Isa gently comforts her. As long as Florence has known Isa, all she wanted in life was to finally get a deal that would mark her as a big-name producer. She had finally found it in Montreal, and now she was giving that up all because of her. Knowing how much Isa was sacrificing made her insides burn, and her head feels like it is about to explode. _This is fucked_ , she thinks. _Isa gave up essentially her entire career so that she can be there for you, and you thank her by snapping at her? By crying about it?_

As if she can read Florence's mind, Isa sits the two of them up in the bed, and softly wipes the tears from under Florence's eyes while Florence tries to calm down her erratic breathing. "I'm sorry to drop that on you like that. I was going to have to tell you eventually. I know this is a lot."

Somehow Isa apologizing for making the most selfless act she can possibly think of makes Florence feel even worse. Florence tries to find the words. Words to apologize. To express gratitude. She stumbles over herself again and again before giving up and just hugging Isa as tightly as she possibly can. "Thank you," she finally manages to get out after a moment. As much as it pained her to admit it, she finally felt like she could breathe easier knowing that Isa wouldn't be leaving for Canada next year. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

—

A week later, Florence puts on real clothes for the first time since Monterrey and begrudgingly gets into Isa's small car. Grace is working, and texts Isa to remind her to send any new photos to her and give her an update as soon as they're done. Florence isn't exactly excited about the appointment—she knew that she was probably going to have to set a date for a caesarian, which she didn't want to think about, and that she would probably go home with some new medications to add to the growing list and a whole new set of restrictions.

"But you're going to get to see _Loouuuu_ ," Isa draws out after Florence lists off all the things she's nervous about. She had caught on to Nick's pet name for the baby, and now she was using it every chance she got. "Doesn't that make all the not-fun stuff a little more bearable?"

Florence sighs and smiles. "I suppose," she says almost defeatedly, tightly gripping Isa's hand as they leave the house.

Dr. Singh greets Florence with a tight hug as soon as she enters the small white room where they are sat. "It's good to see you made it back in once piece," she says with her hands on Florence's shoulders. "I've been thinking about you every day."

Florence smiles, thankful for the older woman who had taken her under her wing. "You are too sweet," she says in reply, with a real smile that reaches her eyes. "I'm sorry that I might have pushed the limits you gave me," she says meekly.

"That's one way of putting it my dear," Dr. Singh tells Florence in reply. She goes to scold Florence, but decides to let it go upon looking at her eyes that look like they've been sad for far too long. "I'm glad you're doing okay."

"Me too," Florence says.

"And who's this? Since I've learned not to assume..." Dr. Singh asks, turning to Isa. "Another pretty sister of yours?"

Florence laughs and then pauses, not sure how to introduce Isa. "This is Isabella, she's my—ehm, she's, well, we've known each other a long time actually, she's in my band, and now she's, um—"

"I'm Isa, I'm her girlfriend, actually."

Dr. Singh's eyes go wide with a smile, but she does a decent job of not showing her confusion. "Oh, I'm Sylvie, it's nice to meet you Isa," she says as she looks back towards Florence. "Florence never told me about a girlfriend."

"It—ehm, this happened recently, actually," Florence responds quietly with a smile.

There is a weird silence in the room as Dr. Singh looks between the two of them. She thinks back to the conversation she had with Florence nearly three months earlier, when Florence insisted that she would probably end up alone, and thought she would be better off for it. She offers up a smile, putting a hand on top of Florence's as she looks to Isa. "Well congratulations then. You best be good to my favorite patient," she says sweetly. "So on to what we're here for..."

It takes nearly two hours for Sylvie to walk Florence through her new restrictions, go through new medications, and explain the plan to do a caesarian nearly a month early, which confuses and scares Florence.

"It's only four weeks. The baby's lungs will be almost fully developed, and it will prevent a lot of complications for the both of you."

"But—I'm just still not understanding why it's necessary."

Dr. Singh sighs. "Like they were telling you, there is not enough fluid around the baby, and once the baby starts getting bigger, that's going to pose a whole lot of risks. We're trying to avoid preeclampsia, which is a much scarier condition than what you have right now. If we can do a caesarian early, we can control exactly what's going to happen, and make sure that the baby is delivered quickly and safely."

Florence slowly nods. "So that would be when? November?"

Dr. Singh sucks in air through her teeth. "October, probably? The best surgeon I know has an opening on the 13th, I think that would probably be a good date to set."

Florence hesitantly nods. Her entire life, the time between June and October felt like it passed in the blink of an eye, and everything suddenly starts to feel real. "Yeah, yeah, if that is what you think is best."

"I do think this is best. You'll be in great hands, and this way everything will be under control."

Isa gives Florence a reassuring look and Florence finally exhales, handing her worries over to whatever higher being was watching over them.

They leave Dr. Singh with a new ultrasound picture that they spend the following days staring at for hours, the little nose of the baby too cute to turn away from, and a long, long list of new restrictions and instructions for Florence:

_No more than one hour on feet each day_

_No exercising_

_No sex_

_Try to stay on back as much as possible while sleeping_

_No walking except very short distances_

_Take medications with meals_

_Avoid stairs when possible_

_Stay in bed with feet elevated as much as possible_

"So long story short, I'm basically on bed rest," Florence says from the passenger seat after reading the list out loud.

"That's not what she said," Isa replies, trying her best to stay positive.

Florence slumps in her seat and stares at the world flying past her in the window. It's beautiful outside, and this is the first summer in years that she would have had a little break from touring to do what she pleased. In her head, she had planned for long, mindless walks around London, punctuated by little stops for coffee or dragging Isa or Rob or Sophie out of their flats to get ice cream. She had wanted to catch up with her siblings, and spend days taking Bonnie to the places she and Grace had adored as little kids. These two weeks had meant _everything_ a few months back when the thought of touring made her want to rip her hair out.

Now they were essentially gone. She couldn't decide if the thought of being trapped in her house or being trapped on a tour bus was worse. _At least there are other beings on a tour bus,_ she thinks to herself. Which leads her to a sudden, bold question as Isa rounds the corner onto the street she lives on.

"Isa?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you move in with me? I mean like, at least for now?"

Isa laughs and then looks over as they come to a stop. Florence is biting her lip, as if there was something to be nervous about; as if Isa hadn't already moved all her belongings over and taken residence on the side of the bed Florence doesn't like because of how the sun hits it through the window.

"I thought you'd never ask."

—

Time moves quickly and slowly and sweetly and painfully in London, and Florence isn't sure if she wants this all to be over with or if she wants to simply rest in Isa's arms for the rest of her life. Isa does her best to keep every day slightly different for Florence; whether it's food from a new restaurant that she goes and brings back for them, or a movie that she rents along with a bag of assorted candies, or a visit from friends, she tries to keep the days moving along. As the days pass, Florence becomes more and more uncomfortable, the growing baby taking a toll on her small frame.

" _Holy shit_ ," Florence winces from her spot curled up on the bed on a particularly bad day. She had been getting horrific back pain that Sylvie assured her was not uncommon, and the only thing she could do for it was lay down and hope that it passed quickly. She squeezes her eyes shut and grits her teeth as Isa places a fresh heat pack on her back. "Thank you," she quietly whispers as the pain begins to dissipate slightly.

"Of course," Isa says softly in reply. "I hate seeing you like this. If they weren’t so cute, I'd kick this baby's ass."

Florence laughs before wincing again, her face scrunching up while waiting for the wave of pain to pass. It was killing Isa to see Florence in so much discomfort—Florence rarely ever complained of anything that was hurting her, so the fact she was visibly debilitated made Isa want to cry.

"Do you think a bath would help, love?" Isa asks while gently running a hand up and down Florence's back. She could see Florence digging the nails of one hand into the palm of her other, her knuckles white as she attempts to distract herself from the pain.

It takes a moment for Florence to finally answer. "Maybe?" she says quietly once she's able. "I think the heat might help."

"Yeah, okay. I'll be just a couple of minutes," Isa says before kissing her shoulder and leaving to go start the water.

Within ten minutes, Isa has the bath set up, complete with lavender bubbles and a candle on the vanity. She carefully guides Florence off the bed, Florence wincing with each step before finally making it to the bathroom. She helps Florence undress, which feels strangely intimate even though they had seen each other naked literally hundreds, if not thousands of times before. Isa can't decide if it would be more awkward to act like this wasn't a big deal, or to just completely look away. She settles on focusing on Florence's face as she helps her step over the edge of the tub.

Florence sinks into the water and sighs contentedly as she tilts her head back, letting her hair float around her. The bubbles cover her face so that only her eyes poke out, and Isa smiles as she watches them flutter closed.

“Is the temperature okay?”  
Florence only nods in reply as another wave of pain hits.

"Just call if you need anything," Isa says as she quietly opens the door to leave.

She hears Florence deeply inhale, and then quickly mutter out, "Can you stay, Iz?"

She doesn't know why it takes her by such surprise, but she feels a flutter in her chest as Florence pleadingly looks at her. "Yeah, course I can," Isa whispers back, closing the door behind her before taking a seat next to the tub. Florence looks defeated, and Isa wishes that she could take her pain away even for a day. She reaches an arm into the water, gently rubbing circles into Florence's back until her fingertips are wrinkled.

"You know what would make this easier?" Florence asks softly after a while. Outside, the sun has set, and the bathroom is only illuminated by the flames of the candle.

"Hmm?" Isa responds absentmindedly, her thoughts running wild as she stares at the blue wall in front of her while continuing to trace patterns along Florence’s back.

"If you just joined me," Florence says in one single breath. "It's still warm."

Isa breaks free from her trance, and looks over at Florence. The last time they had been this intimate in any sense had completely changed their relationship, and even though this wasn't the sexiest or most romantic of circumstances, Isa knew it was a big step. As soon as she makes eye contact, Florence casts her eyes down and tries to backtrack, thinking that it was too bold of a suggestion.

"I mean, you don't have to. I just figured the floor probably isn't the most comfortable place to be, and I, ehm, I just wanted—"

Before Florence can finish her sentence, Isa is pulling her clothing over her limbs and gracefully slipping into the water behind Florence. The tub is plenty big for the two of them, and Isa would be content to sit there for days if it meant Florence was happy. She situates herself so Florence can lean back on her, and rests her chin on Florence's shoulder.

After spending a few minutes in subtle shock, Florence begins to speak. "I, um, I didn't want to—I mean, I hope I didn't—"

"Flo, I love you, but shut up." Isa kisses her cheek and wraps her arms tightly around her shoulders. Florence finally relaxes and leans back to rest her head in the crook of Isa's neck. "Thank you," Isa says softly, answering both the said and the unsaid for Florence. 

Florence laughs. “For what?”

“For letting me back in.”

Florence pauses, letting the gravity of those words sink in. It had been a long few years, and the stress of their careers had nearly separated them. The fact that they were here now was nothing short of a miracle, and Florence can only respond by turning her head to gently kiss Isa, bringing a hand up to the side of Isa’s face as she slowly tries to memorize the taste of her lips. 

Isa can’t help but break the kiss with a smile, so relieved that they were back to a place of being completely comfortable with each other. Just as the bad things would make her chest collapse with their weight sometimes, the good things did too, and having Florence securely in her arms made her feel like she couldn’t breathe out of pure happiness.

"I love you," Florence says after a few minutes of peaceful silence, mindlessly tracing patterns onto the palm of one of Isa's hands under the water. It has gotten somewhat cold, but neither of them acknowledges it, too content to try to leave the comfort of the small, candle-lit space.

"I love you too, Flo." Alone in the dark of the bathroom with Florence, Isa finally feels a calm wash over her; for the second time in the last few months, everything feels okay for a moment.

—

On the morning of day 34 of what they begin to jokingly refer to as house arrest, Rob calls Isa.

"Do you think Florence would feel up to going out tonight?"

"She can't go out, you know this."

Rob sighs from across the line. "I know, I know. I mean, just out of the house. I may or may not have some connections, and I may or may not be able to get the two of you a private dinner at that restaurant that went in where the Arms used to be. But it would have to be tonight."

Isa tries to think quickly. Florence hadn't been super comfortable walking or sitting upright, but she also knows that getting out of the house would do her a world of good.

As if Rob can sense Isa's hesitations, he starts speaking again. "I'd be happy to pick you guys up and drop you off. And if you're okay with it, I'd like to clean up the house.

Again, Rob is met with silence.

"Alright, since you’re making it hard, and for the sake of honesty, I would rather not you two be living in that mess I witnessed with my own eyes yesterday. I'd also like Flo to get out of the house. So I'm going to go ahead and tell my friend that you'll be there at 7. I'll be there at half past six to get you?"

"Well then," Isa says jokingly across the line. "Yeah, that would be nice. I appreciate you Bobby."

"Always happy to help."

At seven on the dot, Isa and Florence find themselves outside of the building they had first performed together. The building that had changed both their lives for good.

"God, we were so young the last time we were here," Isa says as they step inside. 

Florence nods. "And it was, ehm, well, a little different than this," she adds as a man politely collects their rain jackets and the umbrella Rob had left them with. The place is empty, and a set table is situated in the back for them. Once the waiter leaves, Florence begins giggling, which turns into a hearty laugh.

Isa laughs with her, not quite sure what they were laughing at.

"What's so funny Flo?"

"The last time we were in here, I was drunkenly making out with you in a dirty bathroom after playing a shitty fifteen-minute set, and now we're adults having a fancy dinner. And I'm pregnant. And we're in a relationship."

The laughter dies down and Florence stares intently at Isa. Isa isn't sure what to say, or if she finds any of it quite as funny as Florence does, but then Florence is suddenly bursting into that melodic laugh again, and she can't help but join in, acknowledging that the juxtaposition of their whole situation _was_ pretty funny.

“Your sense of humor is fucked, Flo.”

“Oh shut up, that’s what made you fall in love with me in the first place.”

The night passes slowly, and they ease their way into talking about things that they had been hesitant to bring up before.

"I'm shocked that it hasn't really spread," Florence says, referring to the announcement she had made in Monterrey almost a month and a half ago. "Like, I don't think it's really gotten to tabloids. Grace said she wasn't able to find a single video of it online. I don't think that could have worked out better if I had tried."

"What do you mean?" Isa asks between bites.

"I mean, like, I think the right people know, you know? Like, the fans who care about me know what's happening because of social media, and my friends and family know, but the rest of the world probably just thinks I stopped the tour because of like, voice issues or something. Even if word did spread, they'd have no way to prove it as of right now, you know?"

Isa doesn't want to burst her somewhat niave bubble, but she also knows that the likelihood of some stupid tabloid eventually writing something about it, however insignificant, was pretty high. She knows they would love nothing more than a story on a celebrity who got pregnant without having a long-term relationship. "Yeah, you lucked out," Isa leaves it at before changing the subject. "So I have a question.”.

"What's that?"

"Is Lou just going to be Lou forever? Or are they going to be Louis or Louise? Are they getting middle names?"

Florence rolls her eyes. "I haven't even started _thinking_ about names."

"Seriously?" Isa asks, looking at Florence's round stomach that barely fits under the table. "You only have like two months to figure that out, you best get on it."

"Two and a _half_ , thanks. And for the record, I think Lou is a perfectly reasonable name."

Isa laughs. “Have you really not thought about it?

She’s met with a shrug. “I dunno, I have some ideas.”

“Care to share?”

“Nope,” Florence says mischievously as the waiter arrives back. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

They spend the rest of dinner reminiscing about their early days and trying to come up with the most ridiculous names they can think of.

“What about, like, London York Angeles Welch,” Isa offers up as Florence cackles. “Just get in all your favorite cities like all the celebs do.”

Florence giggles as the rain continues to hit the window next to them. She is beaming, unable to contain the amount of gratitude she has for Isa. Isa, who was too nervous to kiss her back in this place all those years ago. Isa, who had stayed practically glued to her side through all of her questionable phases and life choices. Isa, who she was now thinking about getting the white dress she swore she never would for.

After they finish their food, Florence requests to go sit outside and watch the rain from a little bench under the overhang while they wait for Rob. The streets are empty as the sky continues to pour down.

“Can you believe we’re still even friends?” Florence asks, leaning her head onto Isa’s shoulder. “Back then I figured you’d ditch me within the year after that first gig.”

“Never,” Isa replies with a kiss to her head. “But I have to admit the money is what really kept me here.”

Florence laughs. “You bitch,” she says with a smile as she leans in and quickly catches Isa’s lips in hers. Florence’s lips are so gentle, yet somehow dominant as they run over Isa’s. Florence always takes her bottom lip first, then pauses, then turns her head and moves her attention to her top lip. Isa had noticed it the first time they kissed almost thirteen years ago now, and it hadn’t ever changed.

Isa laughs as she pulls away. “I really should have just fucking kissed you back in that bathroom, huh?”

Florence exaggeratedly ponders the question before answering with a smirk. “Yeah, might have saved us a bit of time.”

Eventually Rob is at the light just across the block, and Isa helps Florence up from the bench before they start making their way toward the curb. 

“Woah, did you just see that?” Isa asks as she walks with her arm around Florence. It is raining so hard that they can barely see two feet in front of them, and now lightening was cracking across the sky.

“What?”

“It was lightening. At least I think it was.”

Sure enough, Florence sees a flash of light behind her. “Yeah, that’s weird though. Like, it normally lights up the whole sky.”

Florence and Isa slowly start walking towards Rob’s car, but before they can make it there themselves, Rob is running around the side, quickly opening the door and ushering them in. 

“Move, go, go, go,” Rob says, wrapping his long arm around both of them and practically pushing them into the back seat before slamming the door. Neither of them had ever seen Rob look so angry, and they briefly worry that they have done something wrong. 

Rob clammers back into the driver's seat and quickly takes off, rain dripping from his hair onto the leather seats of his car.

“What the fuck was that about?” Isa asks as he speeds around a corner, her umbrella still wide open in the backseat. 

“Did you not fucking see them?” he asks in reply, his eyes big and wild. He is gripping the wheel so tightly that Isa is afraid his fingers might break.

“Who? What the fuck are you talking about?” Florence asks, finally taking the time to get her seatbelt on. Her heart is racing with the sudden drama of the last few moments, and she wishes Rob would just answer.

“The two guys with the huge cameras across the street, literally screaming your name? Did you not notice them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that took forever and a day to get up. I didn't proofread it and if we're being honest I don't really love it, but I wanted to keep my promise of getting something up this week. 
> 
> Please keep up the comments, I truly love reading them and they're definitely good motivation to keep writing! Also feel free to follow/message me on tumblr @ alwaysdowntohidewithyou. I hope you enjoy x


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In case you missed it I posted another new chapter a just a few days ago! You should probably make sure to read that one first lol*

The first time Florence was papped in London, she had been so terrified that she returned home, somehow managed to call Grace, and then promptly had one of the worst panic attacks she had ever had. She didn’t leave the house for days after that afternoon, terrified that men with cameras were waiting just outside her door.

In Florence’s mind, it was one thing to be papped when going to or from a public event, or even when going to a big party. It was a completely different thing to be papped while just trying to ride her bike home and cook dinner on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

Through the years, she learned that sunglasses were her friend (pictures are worth less when your eyes aren’t visible, apparently), and that driving places was safer than biking or walking. She had the unfortunate experience of learning to never,  _ ever _ show affection in public after pictures of her making out with a boyfriend in the park surfaced on the internet. After that incident, she had been on a solid almost six year run of keeping herself out of trouble with the paps. 

Now it was over.

“It—it was raining and dark, how the hell did they get these?” Florence mutters out through ugly tears the morning after their excursion out. Isa had done her best to keep Florence away from the internet knowing that whatever photos those guys had managed to get were going to blow up , but an early morning call from Sophie to let her know that the Daily Mail had been contacting her for an “inside scoop” was enough for Florence to quickly google her name and find the article herself. 

The headline was bad, but the photos that followed were somehow even worse.

_ “Florence Welch: Pregnant and… a Lesbian?”  _

The first picture was somewhat innocent, just a grainy photo of the two of them in the restaurant. 

The second picture—not so much.

They had somehow managed to get a high-quality, well-lit picture of the two of them on the bench, Florence’s lips locked around Isa’s while Isa had a hand gently placed on Florence’s stomach. It was an intimate photo, and knowing that it was there for the whole world to see made Florence want to disappear into a new realm of existence.

Florence doesn’t manage to even begin reading it before she feels her stomach turn. Immediately, she is throwing up on the hardwood beside the kitchen chair she had been sitting in. Isa winces as she gently pulls her Florence’s hair back, already giving up on trying to move her to the bathroom. “Alright, just let it out, you’re okay,” Isa whispers while she holds her hair and rubs her back.

When she is done heaving, Florence is breathing erratically, though Isa can’t tell if it’s from crying or puking, and her face is pale and covered in a mix tears and sweat. While she isn’t looking, Isa quickly swipes her phone off the table and pockets it in her sweater. She squats down next to Florence, and tries to find words to make everything better.

“Shh, you’re okay love,” Isa whispers softly as Florence collapses into her arms. She’s shaking, and Isa squeezes her as tightly as she can while trying to figure out what they were going to do. “Do you think you can get upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Florence croaks out. 

“Okay, let’s get you in the bath and then maybe we can talk this through, okay?”

Within a few minutes, Isa has the kitchen cleaned up, the bath almost ready to go, and tea made for Florence. 

“Hopefully it’ll calm your stomach,” she says as she hands the cup off to Florence, who is sitting on top of the toilet seat waiting for the bath to fill. 

“Thank you,” she replies, averting her gaze to the floor. She is still breathing irregularly, not quite done with crying.

“Hey, Flo, look at me,” Isa says, gently taking her free hand in between hers. “This is going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but this is all going to work out in the end. You just need to breathe, okay?”

She can see Florence’s face twisting, desperately trying to to stop herself from crying any more than she already has. It kills Isa to see her brows furrowed, her lips all chewed up, and her eyes bloodshot from trying to hold back the tears. She looks like she has reached a new level of exhaustion, like at any moment she might just collapse and wave a white flag from her spot on the ground.

The water starts approaching the edge of the tub, and Isa momentarily leaves Florence’s side to turn off the faucet. She checks the temperature with her finger, and then moves back to Florence to help get her pyjamas off. Florence half-heartedly moves her limbs so Isa can get her undressed, trying her best to not make Isa feel like she had to do everything.

“Do you mind if I join?” Isa asks as she helps Florence to her feet. Florence shakily exhales, so thankful that Isa was so effortlessly able to salvage the morning.

“I would love that, Iz.”

They settle into the tub together, the warmth of Isa’s skin bringing Florence more comfort than anything else. It feels nice just to be held, to feel someone else’s heart beating along with her own. 

Isa marvels at the bump that has taken over Florence’s torso. She lightly runs her hand up and down Florence’s side, feeling the curve of muscles, then ribs, then the smooth curve of the bump all the way down to the top of her hip. They lay for awhile like that; Florence resting her head against Isa, while Isa soothingly traces lines up and down Florence’s side, etching every little curve into her memory. Eventually, Florence’s eyelids gently close and her breaths deepen.    


Isa sighs, once again alone with her thoughts.  _ What are we going to do?  _ she ponders.  _ She hates nothing more than attention, and now there are going to be no less than thousands of people trying to get answers out of her. _

Isa knew that eventually the news of the pregnancy would break. She thought it would be on Florence’s terms though, and that the media would try to be respectful about it. A clickbait headline followed by a huge, clear photo of the two of them kissing with Florence’s stomach looking as round as a balloon was  _ not _ they way she had wanted this to go.

She gently kisses the skin of Florence’s shoulder before attempting to clear her mind and relax.

She thinks about the first time Florence saw herself in a newspaper. She was still in her old band at the time, but she and Isa had just started going to the studio and recording together.

Wordlessly, Florence had put down a newspaper in front of Isa upon arriving to the makeshift studio in Crystal Palace.

“What?” Isa asked, not sure what she was supposed to be looking at.

“Do you see that?” Florence asked, her voice shaking. “Is that what I look like?” 

Isa looked down to see a grainy portrait of Florence in the top corner of one of the pages in the middle. It was a little piece on the band, who were going to be performing at their biggest venue yet the next week. She was wearing a striped oxford with denim shorts, and she was smiling so hard her eyes were squinted. It was very Florence, Isa thought.

“Yeah, it is. You look adorable.”

Florence scoffed, pushing her dark hair behind her ear.

“I look about twelve.”

“Flo, you’re only nineteen. You still have a baby-face. I don’t know what to tell you,” Isa laughed. “I think this is a perfectly good photo.”

Florence groaned as she sat down on the floor, crossing her legs before resting her elbows on the ground and burying her face in her hands. “I don’t understand why they insisted on including the pictures. Like, couldn’t we have just put out the little blurb and left it at that? Or even a group shot, why did they have to put all our individual pictures in there?” 

“Why are you so bent out of shape over this?”

“Because I  _ hate _ the way I look, Isa. You knew me when I was younger, have I ever had a phase where I looked normal?”

Isa stifled a laugh, because Florence had indeed gone through some very questionable phases, including one where she dyed her hair black and drew a star on her cheek every day. “Florence, you look beautiful. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Florence shook her head. “Could you even imagine being, like, famous? Having your face everywhere? Like, at least I got to sit and pose, but imagine pictures of you that you didn’t even know being taken popped up somewhere. Like  _ that _ would be insane.”

“God, no. I’d hide in my house all day.”

“Well thank god those people don't care about illustrators,” Florence said, finally lifting her face from her hands. “I don’t think people care what you look like as long as you know how to put together some colors and draw some lines.”

Isa laughed. “I dunno, it looks like you have some real star potential,” she said with a mischievous smile, picking up the newspaper and holding it up before Florence snatched it out of her hand and buried it in the bottom of her bag for good.

—

The next few days are filled with visits from Florence’s family. They try their hardest to keep her distracted, and Isa desperately tries her best to fill the role of host since Florence isn’t exactly able to move around like she normally does. 

Somewhere between trying to entertain Bonnie and cook dinner one day, Isa gets three missed calls from the same American number. 

“Yeah, I see it! That’s so cool!” Isa exclaims from her spot in the garden as Bonnie points up towards a plane in the sky. Florence and Grace had disappeared upstairs to talk, and now Isa is trying to understand the interests of a three year old while also trying to figure out who this mysterious number that was now calling her a  _ fourth _ time was.

On a whim, she decides to answer it. 

“Hello?”   


“Miss. Isabella Summers?”   


“Hiya, speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Jonathan Driscoll with Columbia records, just giving you a call because one of my clients wanted to set up a time to speak with you.”   


Isa shakes her head in confusion in the warm sunlight. “I’m sorry, this must be a mistake. I was actually just released from my contract with Columbia about a month and a half ago. If you could let them know that I’m no longer there, I’d appreciate it.” She jumps up as Bonnie starts an attempt at scaling the fence.  _ “No!” _ she whispers, pulling the phone away from her mouth. Bonnie giggles as Isa swings her up onto her hip and walks them back into the house. 

“Miss. Summers, my client put in this request yesterday. I want to assure you that this is not a mistake.” Isa shuts her eyes in frustration. She wants to be able to just forget that this deal ever happened, and now it is haunting her like a bad ex.

“Okay,” she says hesitantly as she puts Bonnie down. “When would they like to speak?”

“She told me she wants to speak as soon as possible. She’s actually available for the next hour or so, if that would work?”   


Isa thinks about all the vegetables that she had already chopped up and the water that must be starting to boil by now. She sighs and convinces herself that pizza one night wouldn’t kill any of them. “Yeah, I can make that work.”

“Great. I will let her know. You can expect a call from a 212 number in a bit. I hope you have a nice rest of your day.”   


“Yeah, you too,” Isa says, still shaking her head in confusion. “Bye now.”

“Isa!” Bonnie exclaims in her little kid voice, somehow rhyming Isa’s name with “Lisa.” She runs back over to where Isa is sitting on the bottom step. “We go play?”

“No I’m sorry honey, I’m going to go talk on the phone, but maybe Auntie Flo and Mummy can play?”

Bonnie exaggeratedly sighs. “Okay,” she says, ascending the stairs using both her hands and feet as they were too big for her little legs. 

Isa is in the middle of packing up the vegetables into little containers when her phone rings again. She isn’t sure why, but she suddenly feels nervous, like she might be in trouble for something. Her chest burns as she hits the little green button on the bottom of her screen.

“Hello?”   


“Isa!” a familiar voice on the other end says. The sound of that particular voice makes Isa feel lightheaded and sick. 

“Ehm, hi!” Isa says nervously while silently mouthing  _ what the fuck _ to no one in particular. She plops down into Florence’s desk chair, using her free hand to hold her head up as she tries to figure out what this call could possibly be about. 

“Hi, it is so nice to finally get to talk to you again. I haven’t heard from you in awhile.”   


_ Why in the fuck would you have heard from me? _ Isa thinks.  _ I don’t think we’ve ever even had a proper conversation...how do you even remember my name?! _

“Yeah, it’s nice to hear from you too,” Isa says awkwardly, cringing with every word coming out of her mouth. 

“Yeah, good, good.” Her American accent is so strong, and Isa feels so incredibly inadequate to be on the same line as her. “So I want to be really straight-forward here. I know you probably have no clue why I’m calling, so I just want to get it out of the way and then we can chat.”

“Yeah,” Isa says with a nervous laugh. “That would be nice.”  _ Beyoncé wants to fucking _ chat  _ with me?  _ Isa smacks her forehead, completely unsure of what was going on. 

“So I heard a while ago that you resigned from your contract, and to be honest, I was really heartbroken. You’ve done some really good work for some of my artists, and I was really impressed with what you were able to create at the camp. I was looking forward to getting you working with as many people as I could.”   


Isa doesn’t know what to say, so she just waits for her to continue. 

“They told me you had some personal stuff going on, and obviously I completely respect that, but for the past month, I’ve been sitting here wondering how we could possibly get you back.”   


“Yeah, it was a hard decision,” Isa says earnestly.   


“I’m sure. I know you were really interested in getting on a production team.”   


“Yeah.”   


“Well—I um...I don’t even know how to put this nicely.” She nervously laughs from across the line. “Listen, I’ve had my fair share of horrific experiences with the paparazzi, and first and foremost, I want to let you know how deeply sorry I am that you’re having to go through that.”

Isa’s throat goes tight.  _ Beyoncé  _ had seen those fucking pictures?  _ What does this mean, what does this mean? _

“Ehm, thanks?” Isa exhales, not exactly sure what to say. “I honestly didn’t think they would reach all the way over there.”   


Isa can hear her suck air through her teeth through the line. “Yeah, they’ve definitely gotten around.” Isa cringes again. “But I wanted to talk to you, because after I saw those shots I  _ think _ I have a pretty good idea of your personal reasons for dropping out? I wanted to ask you before making any assumptions though.”

Isa shrugs before realizing she wouldn’t be able to see a shrug through a phone conversation. “I mean, I suppose it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Okay, well, congratulations? I think? Obviously I don’t know exactly what’s going on in your life right now, but I’m sure it’s hectic. I am so sorry that you had to make a decision like that with everything else going on.”

“I am too,” Isa says sadly, finally starting to relax with Beyoncé’s calm demeanor.

“How is Florence doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Isa is briefly confused that she so casually asked about Flo before remembering that Florence and Beyoncé did indeed know each other pretty well at one point. It was how Isa got noticed by her in the first place. It was odd how intertwined everyone’s lives were in the music world, and somehow it is just fitting that fucking  _ Beyoncé _ of all people is one of the first celebrities to reach out in the midst of everything going on.

“She’s, ehm—she’s doing okay. She had a bit of a scare in Miami, she was in the hospital for about a week, but she’s back home now and doing okay.”   


“And how are  _ you _ doing?”

Isa exhales. “I’m good.”   


“Alright, I know we don’t know each other extremely well  _ yet _ , but I think that is a lie, Isa.”   


“I’m—I dunno,” Isa sighs. “I’m confused? Disappointed? Excited? I honestly don’t know how to feel from one minute to the next.”

“That’s completely valid,” she replies calmly. “That’s why I wanted to give you a call. To see if I could help.”

“Okay,” Isa says, not sure of what she could possibly do to help the situation. 

“So nothing has been done yet, and this is just a proposal, but if you’re still at all interested, we want to move the Montreal team out to London starting in June of next year.” 

Isa’s feels butterflies in her stomach as she processes the words coming through her phone. “You  _ what _ ?”

“I want to bring them to you. I want you that bad, Isa. You were my number one pick for that position, and I will do what it takes to make it happen. Again, I don’t know what’s going on in your life right now, and I want you to be where you need to be with the people you need to be with, but selfishly, I also really want you making beats for this team.”   


“You’re going to up and move that entire group?” Isa asks. “And they’re okay with that?”

“Isa, they’re all on board. We all want you. It honestly just makes more sense anyway, there are more opportunities to record and collaborate out there, and it would be nice to have a base set up outside of North America.”

Isa’s head is spinning as she tries to form the right words. “Yes,” she manages to get out. “Yes, a million times over. I would absolutely love that.”   
Beyoncé laughs through the line. “I’m glad that didn’t take a lot of effort. I really prepared an entire argument of why you should come back and how we could make it work.”   


Isa smiles as tears begin to fall down her cheeks. She had truly worked her ass off for an opportunity like the one she was extended in Montreal, and the fact that Beyoncé Knowles herself was willing to move mountains to make it happen meant more than she could ever express. “Thank you doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“You’re  _ so _ welcome. Thank  _ you _ for not giving up on this.”

“I wouldn’t ever give up on this. This is a dream, like—I’m sorry, I can’t even believe I’m even talking to you” Isa says, unashamed of how starstruck she is. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to have you. You have no idea how many people are going to be relieved to have you back in the plan. Before we get going, I wanted to ask—is Florence around by chance? I just wanted to say hello real quick.”

When Isa enters the bedroom in tears, Florence jumps up from the bed where she, Grace, and Bonnie are all reading a book. “What’s wrong?” Florence asks worriedly, putting a hand on Isa’s shoulder. Grace looks up with concern as she closes the book. 

Isa simply shakes her head and smiles, handing Florence her phone. “Someone wants to talk to you.” Florence looks confused, but Isa only pushes the phone into her hand and reassuringly nods her head. Once Florence leaves, Isa exhales and falls backward onto the bed before she starts weeping out of joy.

“Is-sa, are you sad?” Bonnie asks innocently. 

“No baby, I’m happy,” Isa replies with a smile, gently smoothing over her hair.

Grace covers Bonnie’s ears. “What the  _ fuck _ is going on? Did the queen call to give her personal congratulations?”

Isa laughs through her tears. “Yeah, something like that.”

—

Grace leaves with Bonnie to go get the pizza Isa had decided on, and Florence and Isa are finally left alone.

“Well that was—unexpected?” Florence says in a disbelieving voice as she gently settles next to where Isa is laid on the bed, absolutely glowing with relief and joy.

Isa laughs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“What was that call even about?”

Isa pauses. “She didn’t tell you?”

“No, she told me that she wanted to let  _ you _ tell me.”

As much as Isa wants to make her guess, or draw the news out into a big surprise, she quickly lets it out.

“She wants to move the production team out to London, Flo. I know she had set up this opportunity for me, but I didn’t realize she was like, in  _ charge _ of it.”

Florence quietly gasps, and is instantly smiling as big as Isa.

“Iz, that’s fucking amazing, I can’t—you’re just incredible,” she says before gently touching her hand to Isa’s cheek and leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can’t believe this.”

Isa shakes her head. “I can’t either. I just—Beyoncé!” she exclaims, her voice cracking. “Fucking  _ Beyoncé _ just practically begged me to agree to come back after telling me she is fully prepared to move everyone else across an ocean. I can barely play the fucking piano, how is this even happening?”

Florence brushes Isa’s hair out of her face. “Isa, you don’t even know how talented you are,” Florence says earnestly. “I know this sounds dramatic, but I would be nothing without you. You deserve all of this and more.” She sweetly kisses Isa’s cheek with a smile before lying down next to her and curling into her side. 

Isa’s crying again, and Florence gently wipes her tears and wraps her arms around her until Grace returns home with the pizza and they have a celebratory feast.

—

Over the space of a few days, the bath becomes a sacred part of their routine. It was like the water absolves them of anything they were afraid to say. It gives them the power to be open and honest, and be still in the chaos of uncertainty they were experiencing at the moment.

Like when Isa finally brings up the fact they have yet to publicly address that article and the photos.

“I just—I’m afraid that if you, I mean, if  _ we _ don’t say something, people will start making up stories themselves.”

Florence sighs and spends some time studying how the little ripples of water distort her hand. “Yeah, ehm, Beyoncé was saying—god that sounds so weird to say,” she says with a little laugh. “I asked for some advice, and she was saying that you just have to embrace whatever is going on in your life, let people know, and then just demand absolute privacy.”

Isa nods. “I was wondering what you were talking about for all that time.”

“Yeah. I mean, like, I don’t think I can quite do anything on the scale she did, but I agree that we should probably say something somehow. She was saying that the press generally leaves her alone if she addresses whatever it is they’re talking about.”

“So what, like a formal press release?”

Florence laughs. “Oh yeah. On official letterhead.  _ To whom it may concern: Isabella Summers and I are in a relationship, and I’m pregnant. No further questions please. X. _ ”

Isa laughs at her. “Oh shut up.”

“Okay, no, but in all seriousness, I did have a slight idea. It’s not quite a complete thought yet, but Vincent is in Paris right now, and I’m sure I could twist his arm to come visit for a day over the weekend.” Isa immediately knows where Florence is going with this. “I mean, if that’s something you’d agree to. You don’t have to of course. This is as much about you as it is about me.”

Isa thinks for a brief moment before cheerfully agreeing. “I think that would be perfect, Flo.”

Two days later, Vincent is at the door of the house with his backpack full of various lenses and films. “It is so good to see you,” he says, tightly hugging Florence and kissing her on the cheek. “You have no idea how excited I am to do this.”

“Yeah, thank you for coming on such short notice. I’ve missed you,” Florence says as she pulls away from the hug. 

“And it’s nice to see you again,” he says, turning to Isa. The two of them hadn’t ever formally met or had a conversation, but they are familiar with each other from all the various sets Isa had spent time on. 

“Likewise,” Isa says with a smile. “I mean, I’m finally going to get photographed by  _ the _ Vincent Haycock,” she laughs. “I hope you know how obsessed she was with you after that first video.”

Florence blushes. Isa isn’t wrong; after the Calvin Harris video they did together, Florence spent  _ months _ trying to track him down and get him to agree to do a video for her.

“I didn’t know that actually,” he says with a laugh, turning to Florence. “I’m glad the obsession was mutual.”

Florence smiles, so thankful to have such a talented human as a good friend. “Well, shall we?”

After a quick lunch prepared by Isa and a long chat catching up on everything going on in their lives, Isa and Florence change into what they had agreed on wearing—the Alessandro dress that never made it onto the stage for Florence, and a plain white dress that had light pink accents that nicely complemented Alessandro’s embroidery for Isa. Their friend Sarah who was very familiar working with Florence had been nice enough to volunteer herself to do their makeup and hair, and within half-an-hour, both of them are ready for Vincent. 

“Beauties!” he says as they descend the stairs and return to the kitchen. Outside, the sun is just beginning to set, and golden light is abundant in Florence’s small garden. 

“So I want to try to get our main shots while the light is still like this,” Vincent says leading them over to the small bench situated in the back corner. “Flo, I want you to sit here, and Isa, let’s start with you standing behind her.” Isa awkwardly shuffles herself behind the bench, and then just stands there.

“What now?” Isa asks.    


“Just be yourselves. Do whatever,” Vincent says as he takes a few steps back and snaps the first picture.    


Isa flinches at the sound. “Relax,” Florence says with a smile, turning around to look up at her. “Don’t overthink this.” Isa exhales and suddenly, an hour passes, all of them laughing and sneaking peeks at the digital camera’s screen in between moving around. 

Around ten that night, Florence’s phone buzzes. “ _ Just sent over the files, there is a folder of the original photos and then a folder of ones that I cropped and adjusted. It was so nice to see you both today. _ ” Florence quickly opens her email. “Isa, he sent them,” she says from the bed.    


“That quick?” she says, climbing beside Florence. She has a towel wrapped around her wet hair and is wearing an old merch t-shirt that must have been from over a decade ago. She rests her head on Florence’s shoulder as she opens the files. 

The photos are nothing short of stunning. Isa had never liked looking at herself, and if she was being honest, she wasn’t sure how Florence managed to be constantly inundated by photos of her own face. But these pictures made Isa’s heart flutter. Vincent had so perfectly captured the two of them that she suddenly wanted a huge photo of them framed and hung up on a wall. 

Florence stops on one photo where golden sunshine is pouring down on them, creating a little burst of light in the top corner. They are sitting on the bench with green leaves behind them, and Isa is looking straight into the camera with her stunning blue eyes as she rests her head on Florence’s shoulder. Florence has one hand on her rounded stomach, and one hand wrapped around Isa as she laughs, her face turned towards the sky with her eyes closed. 

Both of them are silent, staring at the bright screen in front of them, trying to comprehend how they hadn’t seen all along how perfectly they fit together.

Florence is the first to speak. “We’re so grown up,” she says, her finger hovering over the photo. “Can you imagine showing this photo to ourselves like, 10 years ago?” She shakily inhales, and Isa looks over to see that she is crying. 

“Florence,” Isa says sympathetically with a laugh as Florence also laughs at the ridiculousness of her tears. “Stop it right now.” She can feel tears pressing on the back of her own eyes as she wipes under Florence’s bottom lashes with her thumb.   


“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, trying to collect herself. She exhales, willing herself to calm down before looking at the photo again. “I think this is my favorite photo of us, ever. I might go as far to say my favorite photo ever.”

Isa can’t help but agree. “You are glowing in this, Flo.” Florence smiles. 

“I think this is the first picture I’ve ever seen of you that actually does your eyes any justice.”   


Isa smiles back, nestling her head deeper into the nook of Florence’s neck. “I think we might just be the most attractive couple I’ve ever seen,” Isa says, sending Florence into a fit of laughter before they retire for the night.

The second she gets a text of approval from her manager the next morning, Florence publishes the draft on Instagram she had created the night before while Isa was sleeping. It’s the photo of her and Isa that they had both fallen in love with.  _ “Today and every day I’m thankful to be doing life with my favorite human. We kindly request privacy at this time, and are so very grateful for all of your well wishes x.” _ The picture doesn’t warrant much explanation; it is pretty clear that they are a couple, and Florence’s gentle hand on her protruding stomach makes it obvious there’s a baby in there. Florence punctuates the caption with the bursting star emoji, and limits the comments to the people she follows. She deletes the app off her phone before powering it off completely, and sets in on the table to the side of her bed. 

“Mmm, good morning,” Isa says in her raspy morning voice, awakened by Florence moving around.    


“Good morning, sorry I woke you,” Florence says as she kisses her forehead. 

“You’re fine,” Isa says, blinking her eyes open. She props her head up on her hand and yawns. She stares at Florence and notices that for the first time in a long time, she looks genuinely happy.   


“What,” Florence asks, raising an eyebrow as Isa just stares right at her with a dumb smile on her face. “Do I have drool on my cheek or something?”

Isa laughs. “No. I just love you a lot,” Isa says, lowering herself back down onto the bed, putting a hand over Florence’s stomach before kissing her on the cheek and resting her head on her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so the school procrastination is real so that's how I managed to get up two chapters this week. This one is just tying up some loose ends, hopefully the next one will get this story moving again. 
> 
> Big shoutout to everyone who left comments and messaged me, you are all too sweet :')
> 
> Just out of curiosity, if you could just leave a comment (even if it's just your favorite emoji!) so I can get a general idea of how many people are reading this I would love that. 
> 
> This story will probably be wrapped up in another 3-4 chapters, so last call if you have any ideas that you'd like to see happen!
> 
> I'm also taking suggestions for future fics. I kind of like the idea of doing a slightly more realistic Florabella fic (aka one where Flo isn't with child lmao) but would love to know what era everyone would want to see. Also kind of like the idea of doing some long one shots (like 10-20k words) so if anyone has any ideas for those let me know!
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely week x


	14. Chapter 14

Isa wakes for a second time around noon, and Florence is already up and out of bed, probably reading or making herself tea and toast. She reaches over to the table where her phone is charging, and she has approximately 10 new texts. 

_From Rob, 09:27: Well I guess it’s official then?_

_From J.J., 09:52: Can’t believe you knocked my sister up, call me when you get a chance_

_From Jeremy, 10:22: I called this 9 years ago, can’t wait to hear the full story x_

She doesn’t even get through reading all the texts before she quickly opens up Instagram, and there it is, sitting at the top of her feed. 

It’s weird to think that 100,000 people have seen the post, but the caption takes Isa’s breath away. Even though she had already seen the photo, it makes her teary all over again just looking at it.

She trots down the stairs and looks around to find Florence sitting at the kitchen table, ferociously scribbling into a sketch pad. She quietly walks behind her and wraps her arms around her from behind, slightly scaring Florence who was so caught up in drawing she didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps.

“I’m your favourite human?”

Florence laughs. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“It already has. I don’t think I’ll ever shut up about it.”

Florence giggles again before setting down the pen she was drawing with and standing up to wrap Isa in a tight hug. They sway side to side, their bare feet hitting the hardwood with each little step.

“I haven’t looked at my phone,” Florence says. “I don’t even want to know how many missed calls I have.”

“Well considering I already have about a hundred, I’m guessing you might have a few.”

Florence jokingly groans. 

“I mean, you don’t need to answer any of them right now. We’re relaxing today,” Isa declares. 

“Oh thank god,” Florence responds facetiously. “My schedule has been so booked lately.”

Isa pulls away from her and looks at her sternly. “You have done nothing but stress the last two weeks, and you’re growing an entire human! Yourself! So I mean it, we’re _actually_ relaxing today.”

Florence nods. “Fine. But we’re not watching a single more documentary about 90s music—I love you, but not that much.”

Isa laughs, throwing her head back as Florence grins at her. “If that’s what it takes, deal.”

Somewhere in the middle of the day Florence’s back pain becomes so horrific Isa isn’t sure what to do to help. They sit in the bath until it goes cold, and then Isa gets her into bed with several heat packs lining her back and side.

“This is the worst it’s been,” Florence manages to get out once it calms down for a few minutes. “This can’t be normal.” Isa sighs as another huge wave of pain hits, Florence nearly crushing her hand as she closes her eyes and wishes for it to be over. Little whimpers escape her lips, and she curls up into a ball, willing the pain to go away.

Eventually she is in tears, and Isa decides to call Dr. Singh.

“It’s unfortunately pretty normal for people with her condition,” Dr. Singh sighs over the phone. “The only thing we could possibly do is give her a mild epidural.”

“ _Not fucking happening_ ,” Florence whispers, eavesdropping on the phone call from a few feet away. She had watched a video of someone getting an epidural and nearly passed out before the needle even went near their back. 

“Is there anything else we can do?” Isa asks desperately. 

“You can give her an extremely low dose of painkillers, like, 200 milligrams max, but I’m afraid she’s just going to have to wait it out. You need to call me if she’s bleeding or if she starts to lose consciousness at all.” Isa winces, hoping that it wouldn’t progress to that point. 

“Will do. Thank you Sylvie,” she says as she hangs up. 

Florence groans and more tears fall as Isa puts down the phone. “I’m so sorry Flo,” Isa says, wrapping herself around her. 

Eventually, after an hour or so of Isa massaging her back, she falls asleep. Isa quietly leaves, hoping Florence can get some rest, and decides to make the call JJ had requested of her.

“Hello?” he says after a few seconds of ringing.

His voice is so much deeper than the little kid Isa tends to remember him as. She finds a spot in the garden where the sun is hitting, and sits down.

“Hiya, you told me to call?”

“Issssa,” he draws out. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Isa laughs into the phone. “I’d be better if that baby wasn’t putting your sister through absolute agony.”

“Ugh, is it bad?”

“She’s ehm, she’s in a lot of pain. She finally fell asleep a few minutes ago.”

“Oof, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Isa agrees. “Hopefully it stops soon. So what did you want to talk about? I mean, I think I know, but ehm—”

JJ laughs at Isa’s awkwardness. “Calm down, I saw the two of you snogging at one of the club nights when I was like, sixteen or something. And you’ve been eye-fucking each other ever since. This wasn’t exactly a _shock.”_

Isa laughs only because it’s JJ, who had quickly become like a little brother when they were all growing up together. “Well then,” she says sharply. “I guess that’s out of the way.”

“Yeah, yeah. I definitely want to talk to you more about it, which is part of why I’m calling in the first place. Florence’s birthday—are there any plans in place? I have the week off and I’d love to—”

“J I will pay for the ticket myself if it means you can get here. She would absolutely _love_ that. And I would too.”

Hundreds of miles away from London, JJ smiles. “Me too, Isa. Me too.”

He goes quiet, and Isa can sense something isn’t quite right.

“Aw I can’t wait for that. I always loved having you around, I miss the old times. I mean, I’m proud of you for being smart and going away for school and all, but I’d kill to have your comedic relief around here.”

JJ is still silent.

“J?”

“I’m here,” he says quietly through the speaker.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about? I know this is a lot to take in, I can understand if you’re having a hard time—”

“Isa, can I ask you something? Kind of seriously?”

“Yeah,” Isa says, her heart catching in her throat. His voice is shaking, and Isa can sense that something is wrong. “Of course you can.”

He pauses, and Isa can hear him breathing over the line. “When did you know, Isa?”

His words are quiet and Isa has to ask him to repeat himself just to make sure she heard correctly.

“Pardon?”

“When did you know?”

“When did I know _what_ , J?”

“You know.”

Isa lightly scoffs. “I have no clue what you’re talking about J, can you elaborate a little?” She can feel his nervousness through the line, and suddenly she thinks she knows exactly what’s coming. She listens to the sound of JJ exhaling, and decides to offer it up herself. “Are you asking when I knew I was gay?”

“Ehm—yeah, I just...yeah.”

“Oh, J,” she says as she listens to him sharply inhale just like Florence does when she’s trying to stop herself from crying. “What’s going on, love?”

“I ehm—I met someone, and I’m just _really_ fucking confused. I want to talk to Grace or Flo, but they both have enough going on right now and I just—I don’t know Isa. I don’t know. You’re the next closest thing I have to a sister, and I remember when you were telling me about when you were going through the same thing, so...just tell me how to handle this.”

And so Isa spends two and a half hours talking to JJ out in the garden. The fear he describes reminds her so much of her own that she experienced all those years ago. When she was going through her questioning, same-sex marriage wasn’t even legalized, and she genuinely feared that she would never be able to live a normal life. She didn’t exactly have a liberal family like the Welches either—her parents were deeply devoted to the church, and she could distinctly remember them telling her as a little kid that sometimes boys pretended to marry boys, and that those boys were going to end up in the underworld. 

JJ listens to Isa walk through her own journey, and starts to feel a little bit calmer. If Isa could make it through, he figures, so could he.

“I have exactly none of the barriers you had, Iz. Why am I so damn scared? It’s 2019,” JJ says after a while.

“Because it’s scary to realize you didn’t truly know yourself before, J. To realize you want something that so many people used to hate people for. You don’t need some horrible sob-story to be scared.”

JJ sighs across the line. “Thank you Iz. For getting it.”

“Of course, J. You know you’ll always be my brother.”

JJ laughs lightly. “Well, hopefully you’ll be legally tied to that statement soon enough.”

—

In the blink of an eye, the hottest days of summer are behind them, and Isa is tauntingly reminding Florence of her impending birthday.

“Thirty-three!” she exclaims, lightly shaking Florence’s shoulder. “Remember when you thought _twenty_ -three was old?”

Florence laughs, remembering the mutual break down she and Isa had around that time because, as Isa put it, if Florence thought _she_ was old, then Isa must be _old_ -old.

“Yeah, I do. I still have a couple of days though, settle down.”

The truth is, Isa is excited because in an hour she would leave for the airport to pick up JJ under the guise that she had a meeting, and soon the whole gang would be reunited like the old days. 

Isa had always liked JJ. He was the slightly-less quirky version of Florence, and Isa found his unending puns to be a source of consistent, quality entertainment. The way he cared about Florence and Grace made Isa wish she had a little brother of her own; he would drop everything the second either of his sisters ever needed him, whether it was a shoulder to cry on, a sober driver, or simply someone to laugh with. Even though he was four years younger than Grace and a solid six years younger than Florence, he never failed to step up when he needed to.

So it’s no surprise that the second he walks through the door, he is instantly starting to clean every surface.

“You live like this?” he whispers to Isa, swiping his finger across the top cabinet only to find a thick layer of dust on it.

“Shut up,” Isa laughs. “Are you going to go say hi or not?”

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. She was just telling me on the phone how excited she was for a lowkey birthday, and now the whole family is going to be here tomorrow. I think she might kill me.”

Isa laughs at him. “Well, she might kill you over you dragging your whole family over here, but I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“If she isn’t,” JJ says, turning around as he climbs the stairs, “that’s on _you_.”

“This was _your_ idea!” Isa quietly shouts after him as he climbs the rest of the way up.

He gently knocks on Florence’s door and gets no reply. He slowly swings it slightly open and whispers through the crack. “Flo?” She stirs, and he opens the door a little bit more. “You awake?”

“What do you want?” she croaks out in a sleepy haze. 

“Oh, I can come back if now is not a good time,” he says, walking into the room. 

Florence blinks her eyes open, and instantly jumps up once she realizes exactly who had interrupted her nap.

“J,” she says with a gasp as she rises to her feet. She wraps her arms tightly around his waist, and he squeezes her tightly back. “What are you doing here?”

“Well it’s someone’s birthday this week and I have the week off, so I thought I might come say hello.”

“God, I missed you,” she says as she pulls away. She is crying, and JJ smiles at his sister who is clearly overly-emotional from the hormones.

“I missed you too, Flo.” He smiles as he reaches for an ultrasound picture laying on her side-table. “How is this one treating you?”

Florence smiles back at him. “Well, other than kicking my spine non-stop for the last month, not too horribly.” 

“I can’t even imagine,” JJ says, putting the picture back down.

Florence pauses, looking at her little brother who looks like he’s tired. Like there is something weighing him down. “Do you want to sit down and talk for a bit? I haven’t heard much about your big, new, exciting life.”

JJ nods as he wordlessly wraps himself around his sister again. “I would love that,” he says, his voice beginning to shake.

Over the course of two hours, JJ tells Florence about his schedule of classes, and the town, and his new apartment that he had just moved into. He tells her about the recreational football team he had joined with a couple of other students, and a few crazy nights out they had had. 

Florence is unsatisfied though. She can sense that he was leaving something out. 

“Are you okay?” she says after they sit in silence for a bit, both leaning against the headboard of the bed. 

JJ laughs. “I’m fine,” he says as tears press on the back of his eyes. 

Florence looks at him sternly, and then reaches for his hand. “No, you’re not J. What’s going on?”

JJ exhales, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Nothing Flo, it’s just—it’s nothing.” He curses himself in his head for being so scared over nothing. 

“You know you can tell me anything, J. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve done far worse, or been much stupider, or been in a less-ideal situation.”

JJ bites his trembling cheek, and Florence thinks she knows what’s coming next.

“I know you’ll be fine,” he says, his voice quavering. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s okay to be nervous. Take your time,” Florence says gently. It pains her to see her grown brother of twenty-five so scared. 

JJ looks up at the ceiling, and inhales like he is going to say something before closing his mouth and biting his lip. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Have you met someone, J?” Florence asks quietly, hoping that the innocuous question would allow him to open up.

JJ nods his head. “Yeah, yeah I have.”

Florence nods her head. “That’s good. I’d love to hear what they’re like if you want to tell me about them.”

JJ shakily inhales. “They’re in my class at school. I met them playing football the week after I got back from visiting you in the states, and they’ve been, um—” he looks over at Florence, and her eyes settle him down and reassure him that it is okay. “I mean, ehm, _he_ has been so good to me.”

Florence smiles, and squeezes his hand. “That’s great, J.” He nods along, and soon enough there are tears running down his face, so relieved to have worked up the courage to tell someone face to face, even if it was his sister who lacked the capability to be genuinely mad at someone at all. 

“JJ,” Florence says sympathetically as she wraps him up in her arms. She runs a hand firmly up and down his back as he cries into her shoulder. After a few minutes of letting it all settle in, she asks a question. “Why were you so scared to tell me?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I just felt stupid that I had worked this up to be such a big thing. Like, you just threw up an Instagram proclaiming your gayness to the whole world, and here I am, too afraid to tell even one person? It just made me feel stupid. I think I’m making this out to be a much bigger deal than it is.”

Florence feels tears forming under her eyelids as she gently removes herself from their embrace. “Can I tell you something honest, J?”

JJ nods his head. 

“I was terrified too. This whole not-being-the-norm thing? It sucks.” JJ laughs lightly as he leans into his sister’s side. “I used to deflect my feelings towards girls so hard by just pretending it was no big deal, until one day it finally caught up and completely backfired.”

“What do you mean?”

Florence shakes her head and sighs. “That is a _long_ story for another day, but let’s just say that about 10 years of confusion went into that post on Instagram you just mentioned. I know it seems like I just casually came out, but it took me a long, long time to get to that point.” 

JJ nods. “I talked to Isa last week about all of this. She went through so much, Flo. Like, I can’t even imagine going through that.”

Florence nods. “She did, yeah. That doesn’t make this any less hard for you though.”

JJ smiles. “That’s exactly what she said.”

Florence squeezes his shoulder again, so proud that he was able to tell her this, and yet so sad that she had missed out on helping him through this months ago.

“Alright, enough with the tears. Have you got any pictures of this boy?”

—

Two days later, Florence’s house is filled with loved ones, delicious food, and the sound of Rob strumming a guitar that had been sitting untouched for years in her living room. 

“Happy Birthday, Florence,” her mother says after pushing through the small crowd of friends and family. She wraps her daughter in a hug and kisses her cheek before moving a hand to her stomach and smiling. “I feel like this one has grown even since I saw you last week,” she says, looking lovingly into her daughter’s eyes. 

Florence smiles back. “Oh trust me, I think you’re right.” 

There is something about having all the people she loves in one place that makes Florence feel so at peace. She watches Aku laugh with her dad, probably listening to his stories about his old days on the road, and then turns her eyes to see JJ playing a game on Grace’s phone with Bonnie, exaggerating cheering her on with every touch of the screen. Dionne and Hazel are engrossed in conversation with Sophie, who they hadn’t met before, probably about fashion or their shared love of classic rock. Old friends from Camberwell and the early days of playing with bands gather around Rob as he plays some 2007 South London classics. Florence sits in a trance, smiling as she watches the scenes around her. “You alright, love?” Isa asks, quietly kissing her on the cheek as Florence sits at the dining table. 

Florence smiles back at her. “I just really love this,” she says, tossing her hair behind her shoulder before pulling out the seat next to her for Isa. 

“A lot of people love you, you know,” Isa says as she sits down and wraps an arm around Florence.

“Yeah,” Florence says with a meek smile. “I’m pretty lucky.”

After they all eat their fill of food, Evelyn carries out a simple white cake with little frosting-flowers around the perimeter. They sing happy birthday, and Florence’s cheeks burn as she grins at all of her friends from her spot at the table. Isa snaps a picture of Florence smiling, her face illuminated by the gentle glow of the candles. They all cheer as Florence blows out the candles in a single breath, and Florence feels the gentlest of kicks in her stomach as if to say _yes, yes, I love you too_.

While Florence is still mingling, Isa sits down and quickly posts the photo she took of Florence. _Happy Birthday, my love x_ she captions it, and not two seconds later, JJ is poking her in the side. 

“This is pretty gay, Iz,” he says with a smirk as he lifts up his phone. Isa laughs. 

“Yeah, I suppose it is,” she replies, snaking an arm around him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I am too,” he says, leaning into her. “Thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime, J. Anytime.”

Later that night, only Rob, Isa, JJ, and Grace are left with Florence. They clean the house as Florence opens the small gifts that many people brought. By the end of it, she has amassed a generous sized pile of books, and several little baby outfits that make her heart soar. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” she says, holding up a little wool jacket that is just slightly bigger than her hand.

“Oh, Flo,” Rob says, flicking his gaze back and forth between her stomach and her eyes, “I don’t think that’s going to fit you babe.”

“Oh shut _up_ ,” Florence says, throwing an empty can at him from across the room as he shoves paper plates into a garbage bag. He shields his face with a laugh as it bounces off of him.

“Can you even believe that babies are this small?” Isa says, picking up the jacket. “That’s terrifying.”

“Can confirm,” Grace says from her spot on the sofa. 

“What, that they’re small or terrifying?” JJ asks as he sips on water.

“ _Both_ ,” Grace says, shaking her head.

“Well _that’s_ reassuring,” Florence says as she carefully folds some of the other clothing she had been gifted.

“But they’re cute!” Grace says almost as an afterthought. “Well, at least mine was.”

Florence laughs. “I was the cutest baby _ever_ , this one is going to be cute too.”

Grace smiles. “Flo, just looking at their _nose_ on that ultrasound made us all cry. We’re all gonna be a mess when we actually get to see them.”

Florence grins. “And you lot say _I’m_ emotional.”

Once they’re in bed, Isa turns to Florence and sweetly kisses her, slowly tracing her lips around Florence’s. “Happy birthday love,” she says in a solemn whisper. “Next year is going to be even better with that cute little baby in your arms.”

“You’re going to make _me_ carry the baby? On _my_ birthday?”

Isa laughs. “Okay, that cute little baby in _my_ arms. Better?”

Florence smiles and rests her forehead against Isa’s. “Better. Thank you for today, I love you, Iz.”

“I love you more.”

—

September days start to pass and the air begins to cool. Florence feels like she can breathe a bit easier with the chilly breeze passing through her windows, and Isa is happy to be able to move some of her favorite sweaters over to Florence’s. Meetings for the production team have started up, and Isa finds herself out of the house more and more, much to her dismay.

“Isa, it’s _fine_ ,” Florence says as she sits at the table, nibbling on toast before she leaves for the morning one day. “You need to stop worrying about me. I’m going to sit and watch hours of bake-off whether you’re here or not, you might as well go and be productive.” 

“I know, it’s just—I hate to leave you alone.” 

“Rob is coming over,” Florence replies. “I will be fine for a few hours. Seriously.”

Isa rolls her eyes before walking over and kissing Florence’s head. “I know you’ll be fine. I just like knowing that I’m here if you need anything, you know?”

“I know. But I’ll call you if I need something. Okay? Go show them your magic,” Florence says sweetly, squeezing Isa’s hand before she walks towards the door. 

“Seriously, call me if you need _anything_ , okay? I’m just a fifteen minute drive.”

“I know. Love you, Iz.”

Isa sighs as she pulls the door back into its frame. “Love you too.”

Truth be told, Florence somewhat enjoyed the solitary. She had been so worried about how stressed Isa was over everything that sometimes it was nice to just sit down and write or watch television or read without seeing Isa’s worried eyes studying her. She figured that it had to be good for Isa too to get a break from the tiny house that had been cooped up in for months. And she was beyond excited to hear more about the plans for the production team next Summer. She loved nothing more than hearing Isa talk about what she loved, and every night when Isa would return from those meetings, she would go on for _hours_ about exciting projects they had started planning.

She spends the day slowly packing up one of her rooms full of clothes after deciding the one on the left would be better for the baby since it has more natural light. She gently folds years worth of memories into boxes that would eventually be tucked away in long-term storage until she figured out what to do with them. She carefully smoothes away wrinkles from ridiculous stage outfits she wore back when she was only a supporting act, and diligently wraps some of her newer, more expensive dresses into bags meant to help preserve them. Eventually, her back starts hurting to the point she can’t handle the moving anymore, and she humbly returns to the bedroom to lie down. 

She opens her phone to a text from Rob. _Be there in ten, do you need anything?_

 _No, I’m okay, see you soon x_ she replies back before sinking into her pillow. Just as soon as she gets comfortable, she hears a key turn in the lock and her front door swing open. 

“It’s just me!” Rob shouts before she gets a chance to investigate who could possibly be opening the door to her house. He trots upstairs and opens Florence’s door. “Isa gave me a copy, you know, _just in case something happens_ ,” he says with a smirk and a slight eye roll. 

“Two months ago she was unsure if I was going to ask her to move in, and now she’s handing out copies of my house key,” Florence says with a laugh. “Nice.” She goes to get up, but Rob places a hand on her shoulder as soon as he sees her wince in pain. 

“Yeah, no. Good try. You stay right here, I’m going to get you a heat pack and some tea and pretzels, and then we are going to sit here and gossip for hours on end like the old days,” he says as he walks towards the door. “Oh! And I have a little surprise. Nothing much, but I still want to show it to you.”

Florence laughs. “Well alright then. Sounds like you already have my afternoon planned down to the minute.” 

Rob smiles, going right along with Florence’s antics. “Oh you didn’t hear? I actually have an itinerary for you up until October 13th. I’ll send it your way as soon as I get a chance.”

Florence cackles. “You’re _such_ a dick.”

Rob feigns a look of surprise. “You said that in front of the _child_?”

“They’re gonna have to get used to it,” she says with a giggle. 

Rob returns a few minutes later with peppermint tea, a heat pack and a bowl full of pretzels. He plops himself down on the bed, lying next to Florence as he shoves an entire handful of the crunchy twists into his mouth. 

“You’re really just going to eat like that on my bed?”

Rob rolls his eyes. “You say that like you haven’t eaten entire _meals_ on mine.” 

Florence laughs, taking the heat pack and a handful of pretzels for herself from him. “Thank you,” she says as she settles back into her pillow. 

“So,” Rob starts expectantly. “Since this is the first chance I’ve gotten to talk to you alone, I need to know every detail about how _this_ ,” he says, pulling out his phone and scrolling to her last Instagram post, “happened.”

“Well, you see, my friend took a photo of us, and then I uploaded it to Instagram.”

Rob shakes his head and laughs. “Come on, spill.” 

Florence sighs. “I mean, after those paparazzi pictures got everywhere, I figured I might as well just address it directly. Vincent came over and took a ton of pictures, and I just, you know,” she says, holding up her phone.

“It’s a beautiful picture,” Rob says, beaming at her. “So I have to ask—are you still mad at me for ‘snitching’?”

Florence smiles and shakes her head at Rob. “I _guess_ not.”

“Oh good. I was worried,” Rob says flatly with a smirk. “On a serious note, I’m really happy for you two, Flo. You are some of my favorite people ever, and I’m happy that I played any sort of role in making this happen.”

Florence bites her cheek and nods. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bobby.”

Rob laughs. “You’d probably still be banging on a snare drum and screaming in some club in Peckham.”

Florence punches his shoulder. “Ow,” he says as he feigns hurt. He isn’t upset for too long though, as Florence wraps her lanky arms around him. 

“I love you Rob, I mean it.”

Rob smiles as he gently rubs her back. “I love you too, Flo.”

Florence pulls away, and instantly she knows it’s the right time to pop the question she had been waiting on asking for months. “Rob, would you please be this kids godfather?”

Rob grins, and Florence swears she can see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I would be happy to, Florence.”

A few hours later, they are in the now-empty wardrobe room turned nursery after Rob finishes packing up the last of the clothing. “Well, it was pretty perfect timing that you decided to start clearing this out today, because my surprise was kind of contingent on you finding some empty space in this place.”

Florence cocks an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Rob holds up a single finger and trots down the stairs. He returns with a several big, flat boxes, which he leans against the wall, and then goes back downstairs and returns with another large rectangular box. “So I might have gone a little crazy in the workshop,” he says, opening the first of the boxes. Florence suddenly remembers him telling her he took woodworking all through school. Rob had wanted to be an interior designer as a teenager; their mutual love of design was one of the first things they had bonded over when they met. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had a reason to make anything.”

He pulls out pieces for a cot, and then a dresser, and then a large rocking chair. Florence studies the delicate details carved into the pieces, and then is fully crying by the time he pulls out a handmade wooden mobile of stars and moons and constellations. 

“I cannot believe you did this for me,” Florence says, wrapping herself around Rob as the tears continue to flow. 

“Well, technically I did it for the cuter, littler version of you,” he says, holding her tightly.

“It’s beautiful, Rob. I don’t—I can’t believe you did this.”

Rob laughs. “It’s not even put together. For all you know it is all completely crooked.”

But 45 minutes later, it’s all put together and more beautiful than Florence could have ever imagined. She sits in the huge chair, gliding back and forth as Rob double checks every single screw and carefully places the mobile above the cot. 

“Move over,” he says once it’s finished. She moves herself on the chair, and Rob sits down before wrapping an arm around Florence, inviting her to lean on his side. Florence contently rests her head on his shoulder and looks around the space. 

“Thank you for this, Rob. To be quite honest, I had kind of forgotten this needed to be done and I probably would have ended up with some cheap ikea furniture.” 

Rob laughs. “I’m so happy I could do this, Flo. I had a bit of time to fill anyway,” he says, kissing the side of her head and squeezing her hand. “Next weekend I wanted to ask if you and Isa wanted to stay at my place just for a day so I can paint this room without you getting all the fumes.”

Florence smiles. “I would love that.”

A week later, Isa and Florence eagerly return home from their mini-vacation at Rob’s place. He welcomes them at the door, and then makes them both close their eyes before entering the room. 

“Just a warning,” he says as he guides them into the room by their shoulders. “It’s a bit more than just a paint job.”

“Oh god,” Florence says. “Please just tell me it’s not heavy-metal themed.”

Rob laughs. “Just go ahead and look.”

They open their eyes and are met with a crisp, white room with a ceiling full of hand-painted constellations with all the star-signs meticulously painted on top of them. The cot has neat, grey bedding in it, and there are blue cushions on the rocking chair. Rob has little frames of all of Florence’s family and friends spread out along one wall, and the top of the dresser has little stuffed animals sat on it. In the corner, a little, acoustic guitar sits on a stand, and in another, there is a child-sized three-octave keyboard. A soft rug sits in the center of the room.

Florence puts a hand over her mouth as she studies the wall of pictures, and then the ceiling, and then tears up when she sees the little instruments. 

“The whole band pitched in,” Rob says quietly. “We all wanted to do this for you.”

“This is too much,” she says, gently running a hand over an extremely old photo of her, Tom, Isa, Chris, and Rob hung on the wall. “Thank you,” she whispers, hugging him tightly. The bump makes it hard to get her arms all the way around him, but she does her best. “You’re the best godfather slash wingman slash bandmate slash friend a girl could ask for.”

Rob laughs. “You’re so welcome, Flo.”

  
  
Later that night in bed, Isa asks a question. 

“So if Rob’s the godfather, who’s the godmother?”

“Grace, obviously,” Florence says without thought as she places a bookmark in her book. “I figure JJ already has Bonnie, so I thought Grace and Rob would be the obvious choices.”

Isa looks a little hurt, and Florence can’t understand why. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Isa replies, turning away from her. 

Florence gets an uneasy feeling, like she said something wrong. Isa’s voice was shaking, and now there was a heaviness in the air. “Isa,” Florence begins delicately, “am I missing something?”

“No, no,” Isa says, a sinking feeling in her chest. “I’m just tired.”

“Isa,” Florence says cautiously, suddenly realizing that perhaps she and Isa were on _very_ different pages about this whole thing. “You do understand why you’re not the godmother, right?”

Isa turns her teary eyes towards Florence and ever so slightly shakes her head. She looks broken, and Florence wishes that they had been more explicit with their expectations about the future _much_ , much earlier than this.

Florence places a hand on her cheek and gently runs her thumb along her cheekbone. “Isa, I was kind of hoping you’d be—um, I really didn’t realize this didn’t go without saying, and I really don’t want to freak you out so I’m sorry if it does, but—I just assumed, that, well—” 

Isa rapidly inhales as Florence tries to finish her thought. “Whatever it is Flo, just say it.”

“I ehm—I really want you to have the title of Mum, Iz.”

Instantly, Isa is ugly crying, her face twisting around her eyes as she sobs into Florence’s shoulder. Florence isn’t sure what to make of the outburst, so she just gently runs her hand through her hair, hoping she didn’t say the wrong thing. 

“Are you okay, Iz?” Florence asks gently once Isa stops sobbing. 

Isa looks up at Florence and nods her head with a smile through her tears. “I never wanted to assume, Flo,” she says as she leans into kiss her. 

Florence obliges, gently running her lips against Isa’s, feeling Isa’s tears press against her cheeks. She gently cups her face in her hands, gently resting her forehead against hers as she pulls away. “Isa, I thought this was the most obvious thing in the world. I’m _so_ sorry if that was ever unclear to you.” 

Isa smiles and then laughs as more tears trail down her face. “This little human is going to call me Mum one day,” she says in disbelief as she places a hand on Florence’s stomach. 

Florence delicately places her hand over Isa’s and laughs right with her. “Yeah, yeah they are Iz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is coming to a close and tbh, I'm struggling to put it together because I don't feel like it's ready to end. This whole thing started out as a 10k word one-shot, and now it's evolved into this and I feel like there's still so much left to say.
> 
> With that being said, you can probably expect two to three more chapters for this story. I've already started writing my next one-shot-turned-fic (oops) that I'm pretty excited about, and I hope you will all stick with me. 
> 
> Thank you for all the love in the comments, I appreciate it more than you know x


	15. Chapter 15

The transition from September to October proved to just be a blur of appointments and visitors and, unsurprisingly, the horrific back pain Florence found herself becoming accustomed to. She felt herself growing more anxious with each passing day, eager and ever so slightly terrified to finally see the baby. Isa was her solace in those days and weeks; when Florence was emotional, Isa was rational. When Florence was in pain, Isa was there to wrap her up and take it away. When the baby wasn't violently kicking her, Florence also found peace in just lying still and feeling them slowly move around, the little flutters in her stomach a reminder that she would soon have a baby her arms. Florence couldn't wait for it to finally be the thirteenth, to walk into the hospital pregnant and walk out with a baby, ready to start the rest of her life. 

Florence always hated waiting. For food, for festival season, for Christmas, and now for this baby. She had a habit of getting so worked up about something that she would start counting down the minutes only to find time passing _slower_.

Maybe that was why she had always hated being ghosted on in her younger years; the pain of waiting for a text or call would stretch on infinitely, when in reality, it was probably just a shitty phone battery at fault.

"Florence," Isa had said years back while on a writing trip to Jamaica, "if you don't stop looking at that fucking phone I'm going to throw it out the window."

"Sorry, sorry," Florence said, looking at it one last time before placing it face down on the table behind them in the tiny studio that had been rented out for the week. "It's just, you know, we didn't leave on good terms, and he hasn't said a word for days now."

Isa rolled her eyes, turning her attention back towards the expensive keyboard in front of her. "I don't understand the two of you. Literally, you wanted to break up with him two weeks ago, and now you're just desperately holding on for his call?"

Florence paused, and for a brief second, Isa thought that she might be considering her words. Unsurprisingly however, she was wrong. "Write that down, that's a good lyric."

Isa scoffed. "Florence, you're going to drive yourself mad. And not to pressure you, but we need to have _something_ to show for this trip. I know you're upset but maybe you could use it to write. Like, think hard. Is there _anything_ that might—"

"Alright, honestly? I think about killing him all the time. There."

Isa's eyes went wide and she laughed, slightly taken aback by the admission. Florence's meek little speaking voice was such a contrast against the words that just left her mouth. Florence looked up as if to let Isa know she wasn't joking, her big green eyes looking darker than usual. "Okay, wow. Another song about murder perhaps?"

Florence bit her lip before turning around and grabbing a notebook out of her bag. Isa watched as she scribbled for a few minutes, her foot tapping the tile floor beneath it as she let it all out on the page

"Alright, play something," Florence said as she dropped her pen to the table.

"What do you want, like should it be—?"

"Anything, four-four, slightly fast," Florence replied adamantly. "I have an idea and it's going to disappear any second if you don't start playing."  
Immediately, Isa was playing a simple progression. Florence listened for a few moments before quietly singing along.

"Got every knife to cut him I could find, while I'm holding on for his call, I'm a danger in the sunlight, I can never let him go," Florence hesitantly sang over the chords. "Okay," she said, pausing to scratch things out and write over them in her notebook. "Faster."

Over the next hour, Florence refined the words and Isa played with some new chords, and they found themselves with a song vaguely about murdering a boyfriend.

"You know what this kind of reminds me of?" Isa asked, holding a blunt up to her lips before passing it to Florence. "You know that bible story? Like, where the girl was in love with that guy but then cut off his hair to steal his power and turned him over?"

"Yeah, Samson and Delilah," Florence said emptily, looking out the window at the last glimpse of sunshine. She pondered the story for a moment, before quickly making the connection herself. " _Shit_ ," she said suddenly as she picked up her pen and began writing so quickly Isa could hardly make out the words appearing on the pages.

"Alright, it's happening, it's happening," Florence said, crouched over the table. She clapped her hands and ordered Isa to record the progression she had been playing. Isa got it onto her computer, and then looped it infinitely.

"What else?"

Florence took a moment to think before grabbing the mic and putting it near the wall.

Isa looked confused, but Florence seemed sure. "Go!" she said to Isa, telling her to start recording.

She banged out a simple rhythm on the wall, and as soon as she had four measures, Isa looped it as Florence went back for her notebook.

As soon as she was ready, Florence nodded and Isa hit record once again.

"Now I'm dancing with Delilah and her vision is mine, a different kind of danger in the daylight, took anything to cut you I can find, a different kind of danger in the daylight," Florence sang almost angrily. Isa nodded her head to what she was hearing in her headphones before turning to Florence.

"You're a _fucking_ genius."

By the end of the night, the two were both down to bras and underwear, wildly dancing hand in hand around the studio as the demo they had created reverberated through the small space.

"TOO FAST FOR FREEDOM!" Isa screamed as they wildly spun in circles laughing. They shouted out the song until their lungs ached, eventually collapsing on a couch situated in the corner of the room. They laughed and laughed, both at the ridiculousness of the song and the ridiculousness of the fact they were two adults prancing around slightly drunk in their pants. "We've still fucking got it," Isa said once they caught their breath.

Florence smiled. "Thank you, Iz."

Isa laughed. "For what?"

Florence turned to her, looking deep into her eyes to let her know she was being genuine. "For always finding a way to make everything better."

"Oh Flo," Isa responded softly, grabbing her hand. "Always. I'll always find a way."

As it would turn out, Florence never noticed the seven missed phone calls she received that night.

—

_Monday, October 7th, 2019_

_Dearest Lou,_

_One week more! One week and I finally get to see you. I have this strong feeling that you're a girl, but everyone else begs to differ. The other day Aunt Sophie did this ridiculous thing with a pendant and a chain that's supposed to be able to tell, and apparently, it said you're a boy, but I'll believe it when I see it. Rob looked it up online and apparently the fact I'm craving carbs also means you're a boy. Isa says it's the way I'm showing. I think it's a bunch of bullshit if we're being honest, but truthfully I really don't care what you are as long as you don't give me too much trouble._

_I think I finally have some names picked out, which is terrifying. You're going to be stuck with this title for the rest of your life, so it has to be a good one, you know? And there are so many people that I want to honour with your names, but I only get three. Then there's a part of me kind of wants to actually name you Lou because to be honest, it's hard to imagine calling you anything else. We'll see._

_So much of my life has changed in the last few months, and most of it is because of you. The biggest thing, I suppose, is that Isa naturally went from being Aunt Isa to Mum. We've been through so much together, but we were definitely starting to drift apart. I think we've both known in our hearts for a long time that we were meant for each other, but you were the thing that finally made it happen. For that, and a million other reasons, you are already so incredibly loved, my dear._

_I don't know what I would have done without Isa through all of this. I was so scared at the beginning because while I have all these amazing people in my life, I didn't have a constant. I didn't have someone I could fully hand myself over to and know that I would be okay in the end. Isa has been so patient and gentle through all of this. I keep imagining the moment that Isa finally gets to hold you—it makes me tear up just thinking about it. She has loved me and you so well, and I cannot wait to see the adventures the three of us go on in this life._

_Auntie Grace and Uncle JJ are so excited too. Just yesterday JJ told me he requested absence from school next week, and today Grace came over with about a thousand bags full of necessities that per usual, I didn't even think about needing. Everything is ready to go for you here, and it's honestly making the waiting even harder._

_Dr. Singh has walked me through how Sunday is going to go about a thousand times now, but it still kills me to think that I am going to have to wait so long to see you after surgery. She told me you'll go straight to critical care because you're going to be so tiny and they're not so sure about how your lungs will be, and then it could either be a little over an hour if you pass all the tests or days if it takes a little longer. She assured me that there will be glass windows to see you if it takes a while, but I cannot stand the thought of being separated for that long. We've been so close for so many months now—it's hard to imagine being apart._

_I just heard Isa park her car, so I'm going to leave you here. I'll write again soon._

_Love,  
Mum x_

Florence feels a cool rush of air come in the house, then hears the sound of the door closing as Isa greets her. "Hello? You down here, Flo?"

"Right over here," Florence says from around the corner. Isa appears, her long, blonde hair falling over her shoulders as she struggles to take her pair of boots off. "You're home early."

Florence gently closes the journal and puts it aside as Isa sits herself on the arm of the chair and leans in to greet her with a hug and a kiss on her temple. "Yeah, they're doing their best to keep these things short since I'm—well, since _you're_ insisting I go," Isa says, recalling the heated conversation they had when Florence insisted that Isa keep going to the meetings, even though the team had already told Isa she didn't need to come. Florence knew it would pain Isa not to be there for all the planning about projects she was so excited about, and truthfully, it _wasn't_ a bother to Florence at all. In fact, Florence saw it as a welcome excuse to make sure Isa was getting out of the house and spending time thinking about _anything_ other than how she was doing. "How are you lovely?" Isa asks.

"I'm good, Iz. No back pain, and Grace just left about an hour ago. I'm glad you're home," she says, smiling as she leans into Isa.

"I'm glad I'm home too. We just have one more short meeting on Friday, and then everyone is heading back to Canada until June and I'm all yours."  
Florence closes her eyes and smiles contently. "It's starting to feel real."

"Yeah, it is," Isa replies, holding Florence a little tighter. "I feel like we should be throwing you a hen night or something, like one last wild night of freedom before this one takes over," she says, placing a hand on Florence's stomach.

Florence cackles. "Oh my god, could you imagine? Me, barely able to walk, sauntering into a club?" Then they're both laughing, imagining the ridiculous scene in their head.

—

On Wednesday, Evelyn pays Flo and Isa a visit, promising to bring over her chicken and pasta that her daughter loved so much.

"How are you?" she asks with a big smile as she slowly walks through Florence's open front door.

"I'm good, I'm good," Florence says as she goes to get up from the sofa she and Isa are sat at.

"Nuh uh, you stay there," Evelyn says, walking over and crouching down to hug Florence, then Isa. "You don't need to be getting up and down." She disappears into the kitchen for a moment before coming back to sit down on the other side of her daughter, wrapping an arm around her. "We have a lot to talk about," she says with knowing smile, looking first at Florence and then at Isa.

They spend most of the day talking about the baby, Evelyn recalling funny stories about Florence wailing on the top of her lungs until they would put The Smiths on, at which point she would promptly settle down and fall asleep, along with the one time Florence climbed to the top of a play structure at an age she could barely walk when Evelyn turned her back for a just a minute.

Isa laughs as Florence shakes her head. "She got all the way up there by herself?" Isa asks, knowing _exactly_ the old playground Evelyn was talking about in southern Walworth.

Evelyn shakes her head, laughing at the memory. "Yep, she just sat up there laughing about it while I had to figure out a way to scale it. She was probably one and a half? To this day I have no clue how she ended up there. I think the other parents thought I was the worst mother in the world."

Isa shakes her head again. "Well, she definitely has a knack for scaling things that shouldn't be scaled," she says glaring at Florence, thinking back to the major fight they had the time she climbed all the way up the rigging at Reading.

"Oh my god, it was _one_ time," Florence says with a moan. Isa had screamed at her after that gig, plainly telling her that she refused to play for someone who thought it was funny to put herself in a near-death situation in front of thousands of people. Florence had tried to scream back, only to be interrupted by a call from her mother who had seen it all unfold on the television stream and _also_ wanted to have a turn screaming at the singer.

"Oh no it wasn't," Evelyn says as she opens the oven to heat the chicken. "I know you did it again from pictures, I just decided to stop watching for my own sanity."

Florence laughs. "Okay, but did I ever go _all_ the way up again?" she asks, turning to Isa for confirmation.

Isa rolls her eyes. "No, I suppose you didn't."

Florence turns triumphantly towards her mother.

"Doesn't make you any less stupid, whether you were one or _twenty_ -one," Evelyn says with a laugh, hugging her daughter before sitting back down.

They eat lunch, talking about stories from the tour, and Isa's projects, and plans they had for the coming year. Evelyn tells them about a book she is writing, and some new classes she was teaching in the spring. Perhaps that is why it catches them off-guard when Evelyn asks a serious question.

"So when are you two getting married?" Evelyn asks casually. Florence looks shocked, and Isa stifles a laugh as she looks at Florence's face.

Florence tries to respond, but can't come up with anything to say. "How do you even know we're even—I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Oh Florence, I don't go on the internet much, but I'm not _stupid_ ," she responds calmly. "You've managed to hide a lot of your boyfriends from me, but if it weren't for those boyfriends I would've thought you two had been dating for the last 13 years. And this," she says, opening up her phone and sliding it across the table, "kind of confirmed it." On it is the Instagram post Florence had put up.

"You have an Insta—okay, no, wait a minute," Florence says shaking her head. " _Thirteen years_?"

Evelyn nods her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You talked non-stop about her. You were with her every second of every day. Seriously," she says, turning to Isa, "did you _also_ not think that I knew about this?"

Isa puts her hands up, not wanting to get involved.

Florence scoffs. "And here I was, thinking that I was not only going to have to _come out_ to you, but also explain to you that the girl I was with is the same girl you hired to babysit Grace and, _low-key_ , probably me too."

Evelyn laughs. "Florence, to be completely honest I was _more_ shocked when you kept dating guy after guy. And you've always loved Isa." Isa bites her lip, feeling like she shouldn't be present during this conversation. "And you know I love you like one of my own," Evelyn says, turning to Isa, "which is why I paid you well to let me know if the eldest made it home alive every night."

" _What_ ," Florence says incredulously, looking between Isa cringing and her mother smirking. "I was kidding before. _Seriously_?"

"Sorry," Isa says, sinking in her seat. "I guess I never told you that, huh."

Florence laughs, shaking her head.

"Alright, well clearly it all worked out in the end," Evelyn says, getting back to her main point. She softens up. "I couldn't be happier. I love you both so very much, but was somewhat surprised you didn't try to go ahead and get in the wedding before the baby comes. It's going to get quite busy around here, you know."

Florence's cheeks go red and Isa just laughs. "Mum, we haven't even talked about—I mean, we—"

"Next winter, probably," Isa says, grabbing Florence's hand. "We want to do it justice, and we've just been so busy."

"Good," Evelyn says. "Just make sure you tell me early so I can plan accordingly."

—

  
"Do you think your mother realizes that a shotgun wedding is kind of pointless if the person you're marrying isn't the one who knocked you up? And like, _especially_ pointless if you can't even _pretend_ the person you're marrying is the one who knocked you up?" Isa shouts that night from the bathroom as Florence lies in bed.

Florence laughs heartily. "I'm fairly certain she asked Dan and Grace the same exact thing when she got pregnant, so hey, at least she's not discriminating I suppose."

Isa shakes her head. "I hope I didn't freak you out. She wanted an answer, and I just kind of figured—"

"A winter wedding sounds _lovely_ , Isabella. We have more than a year to discuss, don't worry about it now."

"Can it be Halloween themed?" Isa mumbles, brushing her teeth in the doorway. Suddenly her eyes light up. "Ooh! Or better yet, it could be 'Nightmare Before Christmas' themed." Toothpaste runs down her chin, and she does her best to catch it before it hits her beloved Nirvana t-shirt.

Florence giggles. "What?"

Isa reappears after spitting out the toothpaste and wiping her face. "'Nightmare Before Christmas.' It's that creepy Christmas movie we watched ages ago. That way it's like the best of both worlds, you get Christmas and I get Halloween. Win-win."

Isa tucks herself under the covers as Florence cackles. "If that makes you happy, then sure."

Isa chuckles and then wraps herself around Florence.

"Are you excited?" she asks. "It's only _four_ days."

Florence smiles, feeling sleepy as Isa gently runs her nails up and down her arm. "I just can't wait to see them, Iz. I really want to know what they look like."

Isa contently sighs. "Me too. I just want to see that little nose in real life."

Florence nods in agreement. "And the baby clothes," she says with excitement. "I just can't. I am _so_ excited for little baby sweaters."

Isa laughs. Here was the girl that got banned from MGMT's tour bus at the ripe old age of 21 because she was a "bad influence," squealing about baby clothes.

"Are you nervous?"

Florence pauses and thinks. "You know, I was for a while, but now I just want it over with. I think it's actually a good thing that I just have a date, because I know exactly when it's coming. I don't think I would be able to deal with so much uncertainty now. And this back pain has been so bad it's gotten to the point that I'd rather them slice me open and get this baby out then go through even a day more of that feeling."

Isa cringes. "That bad?"

"That bad. I just—I don't know..."

Isa delicately kisses the skin behind Florence's ear and wraps an arm tightly around her, feeling her anxiety begin to bubble up.

"Four days, and then this will all be a memory, Flo. You're the bravest person I know."

Florence smiles, knowing that Isa was only saying that because she was Isa and she loved her, but Isa firmly plants kisses along her ear and jaw that let her know she was being serious. That night, Florence sleeps deeply for the first time in weeks, the warmth of the cocoon of blankets bringing her a gentle peace.

—

Friday morning, Florence wakes up in a sweat after another long night of back pain and nausea. "How are you feeling, love?" Isa asks, right next to her with a concerned look on her face. Florence had been up with Isa several times through the night, either to get up and walk around to help hold off the pain, or to go to the bathroom when she felt like she might throw up. Isa had been awake the entire night, carefully studying Florence's every movement as she slept, waiting for her to wake up, then gently helping her fall back asleep once she was feeling a little better.

Florence blinks a few times, and then folds her arms over her face. "I'm better, it's not nearly as bad as it was a few hours ago."

"Good," Isa says, lightly running her hand over Florence's stomach. "I'm going to go get you some food, would you like some tea?"

Florence nods. "Tea would be great."

She returns with tea and toast, and gets back into bed as Florence slowly begins eating. "Don't you need to be getting ready for your meeting?" Florence asks. It is the last meeting until everything starts up in June, and Florence knows it is important that Isa go.

Isa casually shakes her head. "No, I'm not going. I need to stay here with you."

"Isa," Florence says seriously. "I've been a million times worse before. I want you to go, you were just telling me how excited you were for this morning."

Isa shrugs her shoulders. "I can get notes from someone."

"Isa, I'll be completely fine. Didn't you say it's just in Peckham? You'll be a five-minute drive away. If I need you—which I _won't_ —I'll text you." She reaches over and brushes Isa's hair out of her face before kissing her, as if to prove that she is fine.

Isa groans. "Florence, I don't want—"

"Go for _me_. It's just two hours, and then you can dote on me all you want, okay?"

Isa sighs and nods. "Fine," she says before softly kissing Florence and getting ready for the morning.

  
Once Isa leaves, Florence wanders around the baby's room, studying the neat piles of nappies Grace had organized along with the various items on the floor that Isa had started to pack for Sunday. She runs a hand along the soft blanket folded over the cot, and then goes to the wall. There are old pictures of her, Grace, and JJ, a picture of her and Sophie when they were seventeen or so, a picture of Evelyn holding Florence on one hip and Grace on the other, and lots of pictures of the various people who had made up "the Machine" throughout the years. She smiles before moving on to looking at all the clothes that had accumulated throughout the room. Florence goes to pick up one of the outfits Isa had laid out, but a sudden sharp pang of pain in her back prevents her from moving any further. She winces and pauses until it subsides. "So _that's_ how we're going to play today," she whispers, bringing a hand to her stomach. She manages to get herself back up the stairs, and sits down on the bed, forcefully breathing in and out in an effort to get the pain to go away. Eventually, she turns herself and lies down, reaching her arms up to try and stretch the tight muscles. She thinks about how she only has to deal with this for a few more days, and is thankful that this will soon be over.

An hour passes, and Florence finds that while it hasn't gotten any worse, the pain certainly hasn't gotten better. After another sharp pain hits, she finally decides to text Isa.

_My back is getting kind of bad again. If there's any way for you to leave early that would be good, no worries if not x_

After she sends the text, she manages to get through an entire episode of Sherlock before it gets bad enough that she decides to get in the bath. The pain is starting to feel different; it has moved into her sides, and even the muscles in her legs start to burn. As the steamy water runs, she sits on the edge and types out a message.

_I'm going to start a bath, hopefully that will calm it down. Please come home soon if you can x_

Florence puts her phone down, somewhat surprised that Isa hadn't responded. She climbs into the bath and waits for the pain to dissipate, even if only a little.

Instead, it grows even worse over the next fifteen or so minutes, the waves of pain engulfing her entire being.

She reaches for her phone next to the tub and looks at the time. _11:36_. Isa's meeting was only supposed to go until noon, and she figures that she will be able to manage until then.

That is, until a pain so severe that she feels as if she might split in two hits. She whimpers as she waits for it to pass, and then immediately picks up her phone to call Isa.

She opens up the phone app, and hits the contact with an old picture of a young, dark-haired Isa.

Not a second after she hits Isa's contact, however, she can hear a loud marimba chime coming from downstairs.

" _Fuck_!" Florence screams, not caring if the neighbors hear. " _Fuck fuck fuck_!" Immediately, there are tears streaming down her face as she sits in the warm bath that is getting cooler by the minute.

She quickly scrolls to the next best person before the next wave of stabbing pain hits.

"Rob," Florence says through the phone as soon as he picks up, gritting her teeth, "I'm not feeling good."

"Alright," Rob says gently, concerned but not understanding why Florence was calling him, "is there anyone over there Flo? Where's Isa?"

"She's at a meeting until noon and she forgot her phone at home," Florence says as clearly as she can muster. She feels another sharp pain and does her best to breathe through the waves that feel like knives running through her body. "Rob I _really_ don't feel—" Florence lets out a disgruntled moan and Rob's chest tightens. He steps out of the small restaurant he had been eating lunch in with some friends, and tries to talk to Florence as calmly as he can.

"Flo? Flo, you need to talk to me, what's going on?"

"It— _fuck_ —my stomach and back and head, they're—I feel like I'm gonna pass out," she says breathlessly. She notices a thick sheen of sweat covering her arms, and suddenly she feels like she might throw up.

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm in my bathroom, I thought it was just a backache a while ago so I started a bath, but now—" she grits her teeth as another shock of pain runs through her, " _holy shit_ , this _hurts_ Rob." She is in tears, the pain becoming almost too much to bear.

Rob is practically running to his car at this point. "Do you think maybe you should call 999 Florence? You _really_ don't sound well."

"No, no I'm fine, you know I've been getting these really bad backaches over the past month, and Dr. Singh told me it's normal, I just," she pauses, deeply inhaling and exhaling through another, smaller shock of pain. "I just really want someone here right now."

"Okay, I'm on my way Flo, but we're calling 999 if it gets any worse? Okay?"

"Can you text Grace? I'm sure I'm fine, I just— _fuck_." Florence whimpers in the background as Rob begins speeding through South London.

Rob stays on the line with Florence, as he shoots off a text to Grace and navigates the streets of Camberwell. The little pockets of silence scare him, but Florence always manages to let him know she was still there. Eight minutes after receiving the call he thanks god Isa thought to give him a key, unlocking the door before running up the stairs to find Florence in her blue bathtub, paler than he's ever seen her and covered in sweat. Her eyes are screwed shut, and she is biting on her lip so hard that Rob can see a little bit of blood.

"Hey Flo, I'm here, I'm here." Florence doesn't acknowledge him, caught in a black well of pain.

Rob moves to crouch down beside the tub and moves Florence's hair out of her face so he can get a better picture of the amount of pain she is in. She doesn't even respond to his touch as he runs his hand over her back while she continues to breathe erratically. 

"Flo you need to say something," Rob says just as Florence grabs his wrist and lets out a scream so loud that he fears the neighbors will call the police. Florence's nails dig into his skin, and Rob quickly goes into a panic.

Florence sharply inhales before quickly breathing in and out, and in and out, as if she had just emerged from underwater.

"You need to call Dr. Singh and ask her what to do _now_ , I think I'm going to pass out," Florence says decisively, her eyes doing their best to focus on Rob's face.

"Flo, what's happening?" Rob asks frantically as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Suddenly Rob hears someone bounding up the stairs, and a moment later Grace is right next to him, reaching for Florence's hand.

"Hey, hey, I got you. You're okay, what's going on?" Grace says soothingly. _Thank god for Grace_ , Rob thinks as she dismisses himself to call 999.

He quickly punches in the numbers, and then is bombarded with questions about where they are and how to get to the entrance and Florence's medical history. He attempts to explain the condition she'd been diagnosed with, and tells the dispatcher that she had a cesarean scheduled for Sunday.

"You need to calm down, dear, I'm not understanding what you're saying," the operator tells him. He didn't even realize it, but he was in tears and struggling to get out the words.

He deeply inhales, collecting himself before speaking again. "I think my friend is about to have a baby about a month early in her house and we need an ambulance _now_ ," he says as clearly as he possibly can.

"Rob?" he hears Grace cry out from the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, give me one second," he tells the operator, walking back around the corner in a daze.

Florence is screaming again, and when he enters the bathroom for further inspection, she _truly_ looks like she might pass out at any given moment.

"Oh god," he says into the phone, "she's—she's in the bath, and she's just completely white and in a _lot_ of pain."

"Okay, can you get her to a bed? Or a carpet? Somewhere soft?" the operator asks through the phone.

"I don't think—"

And then Florence is screaming out in pain again, and Grace is crying. He hears the front door swing open, and suddenly Isa is in the bathroom with them. "What the fuck is happening?" she asks Rob, her face gone pale. "I accidentally forgot my phone here–how long has she been like this?" Florence's eyes flicker open again, and she is wildly staring off into space, as if her soul has left her body. Then she is overcome with immense pain again, and suddenly snaps back to reality.

" _Fuck_ it hurts," Florence says breathily as the wave passes, tears running down her red face as she grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut.

"Okay," the operator says to Rob, able to hear Florence's screaming from across the line. "You need to get her out of the tub, okay? Get her somewhere soft so she doesn’t get hurt. There's an ambulance on the way. I just need you to stay calm, and if starts to push you need to stop her, okay?"

Rob takes a deep breath and has a passing thought that perhaps this is all a nightmare before snapping out of it and turning the drain of the tub. Isa looks sick as she gently strokes Florence's forehead, and Grace has one of Florence's hands between hers, holding it tightly while reminding her to breathe. 

"Right, so from what I've gathered I _think_ she has gone into an early labor, which means it's going to move fast. I'm going to go ahead and call these bursts of pain you're describing to me contractions. Do you think she's having a contraction right now?"

Grace replies from her spot next to Isa, carefully watching Florence's face. "Ehm, I don't think so."

"Okay, okay, good. And there are two of you there with her?"

"Three," they all say simultaneously.

"Okay, I want you to try to get her out of the tub and lying on a bed if it's nearby, or at least a carpet or a towel or something soft, alright? Can you do that?"

Grace and Isa work swiftly to coax Florence out of the tub. She lets out cries of pain with every movement, and eventually they have her lying on top of her bed which is only a few steps beyond the bathroom. Rob covers her with a large towel, desperately trying to keep her as warm and comfortable as he can.

"Okay, and what's her name?"

Isa hesitates before answering. "Florence."

"Okay, Florence? I'm Dotty, I'm going to help you until help arrives. Do you feel like you need to push at all?"

Florence is once again unresponsive, instead continuously whispering to herself "I'm not ready, I'm not ready," between cries and screams.

"Hey Florence, listen to me. I know you're in a lot of pain right now, but we really want to keep that baby in there until we can get you to the hospital, okay?" Dotty says through the phone.

Florence grabs Rob's arm, gritting her teeth as another powerful contraction hits. It all moved so incredibly fast, and she isn't sure how her afternoon went from having a little back ache to feeling like she is ready to give birth in her own bedroom.

"Alright, let's get someone behind her and have her sitting up, okay? Is she still conscious?" the operator asks.

"Yeah, just in a lot of pain," Rob says as he moves behind her, her hand still firmly wrapped around his forearm. Somewhere in the distance, he faintly hears a siren, and prays to god that it is headed for them. Isa and Grace lean against the bed on either side of Florence; Isa holds her hand as Grace places a cool, wet washcloth on top of her head.

"Make it stop," Florence says breathily, her eyes unfocused as she looks between Grace and Isa. "I can't fucking do this, it hurts too much." Rob bites his lip and looks up, trying to stop himself from crying.

They watch as Florence scrunches up her face again, and she starts holding her breath. "I feel like I need to push," she quickly exhales. Her eyes are bloodshot against her pale skin, and big drops of sweat are dotted across her forehead. Isa thinks this might be the worst she had ever seen Florence look.

" _No, no, no_. Florence, you need to breathe. We are going to get you to the hospital, and then they'll get some pain meds going, and this will all be okay, alright?" Isa says reassuringly.

Suddenly, Florence lets out an ear-piercing scream as her jaw clenches shut, and Isa thinks her wrist might break from Florence squeezing it.

"What's happening over there?" Dotty asks.

Grace moves to look at what was happening. Florence rapidly tries to catch her breath as Grace lets out a breathy _holy shit_.

"It's head is out," Grace says with a panic to the operator, "what should I do?"

"Okay, that's fine, we're beyond the point of trying to stop this, so I'm going to walk you through this. I want you to take a towel and gently support the head. Florence, I need you to push as hard as you can when the next contraction hits, this is going to move very fast, okay?"

Rob grabs one of Florence's hands, helping her brace for the incredible amount of pain she is about to be in. Isa moves to Florence's side to brush her fringe away from her sweaty forehead and readjust the washcloth. "You can do it, everything is going to be okay, Flo," Isa says, slipping her hand back into Florence's as the next wave of crushing pain hits her.

The next moment is a blur of Isa shouting, Florence screaming, and Grace trying to calmly reassure Florence while simultaneously turning as pale as a ghost. Rob firmly holds onto Florence's shoulders from his position behind her, and Isa can hear the operator ask what is going on a few times in the background as Florence's screams echo throughout the whole house. Isa watches Grace's face go from one of major distress to one of shock and joy in slow motion. She thinks that a few bones in her hand might be broken as Florence crushes them with every wave of pain, but none of it matters the second she sees a tiny little baby, covered in an assortment of fluids, in the towel on Grace's lap.

"Okay, I'm hearing crying. Is that a baby I'm hearing?"

"Yes," Grace replies through tears of relief. "It's a baby."

  
Everything is a blur for Florence as Grace gently wipes off the baby with the towel, carefully listening to the operator's every instruction. Her vision and hearing are hazy from the pain, but she can feel Rob kiss the top of her head, and then Isa kissing her cheek and faintly whispering "I love you's" and "everything is going to be okay's" into her ear. She is crying, though she can't exactly place why.

The second Grace places the baby on her chest though, it is as if all her pain is gone; she feels higher than she ever did on any sort of drug. She sobs as she stares at the smallest newborn she had ever seen with her own two eyes, with pale, pink skin and a few strands of light-blonde hair. Their little eyes are scrunched up as they ferociously scream, clearly unhappy to be in this strange new place. Florence feels Isa stroking her arm as she wraps her fingers around the baby's back, her hand large enough to cover the little one's entire body. Grace returns with a blanket from the linen closet and replaces the towels with it, carefully wrapping Florence and the baby up in warmth.

"You did good, Florence, you did good. From what it sounds like, that is a healthy little baby. They'll be there any minute, and then we'll get you all to the hospital. Well done to everyone there," Dotty says through the phone.

For a brief moment, the four sit in relative peace, all crying, and Florence lets out the smallest of laughs as the baby calms down and wraps its teeny hand around the tip of her pinky.

—

When they finally got to the hospital, everything moved so quickly Florence could barely keep up. She, Isa, and Grace immediately headed one way while the baby was moved another way, closely followed by Rob. Florence felt lightheaded through the chaos, and only noticed after a few foggy hours of being situated in a room that they had hung an IV and a unit of blood that were now slowly flowing into her arm. She dazed in and out of sleep, realizing at one point that they must have started her on some pretty strong painkillers. It seemed like every time she opened her eyes there was someone new in the room; first it was her father, then her mother, then Sophie, then Rob. Eventually, after everyone in the room had gotten a turn to go eat dinner, she was finally alert again.

"Where's the baby?" she managed to weakly mutter out. "I want to see the baby."

Rob sighed, and walked over to Florence's side. He pulled out his wallet and then carefully removed a small photo from it. He leaned down next to Florence, grabbing one of her hands and using his other hand to hold up the photo to her face. "She's still on the other floor, but here's a little picture they gave me, Flo. She's a little girl, 2.2 kilos, and she's got this blonde hair that looks just like Bonnie's," he said gently, handing Florence the polaroid they had given him before he left to join her. "I saw her really quick before they took her back—she's perfect Flo, she's absolutely perfect."

Florence stared and stared at the picture of the baby; her head was covered by a little white hat that was too big, and a tiny, tiny fist covered one of her eyes. Tears welled in Florence's eyes before she finally let out a smile and happily showed the small group of friends and family in the room with her the treasured picture. They all oohed and ahhed, and everyone was in tears by the time it made its way back into Florence's hands.

After seeing the picture, Florence managed to hold herself together pretty well throughout the evening, the shock of the whole day helping her not get too emotional about not being able to see the baby. Dan had brought along Bonnie at some point, which was a welcome distraction for Florence as she listened for Bonnie go on and on about all her favorite toys she wanted to share with the new baby. Rob stayed for most of the day until he realized his dog hadn't eaten and was probably destroying his house. He left Florence with a kiss on her head and a promise that he would be back the next day, and not long after Grace and Dan left, wanting to get Bonnie to bed. Sophie left next, giving Florence a tight hug before quietly leaving. Around 8:30, a nurse came to tell Nick and Evelyn that visiting hours would be ending soon. They both left in tears, repeatedly kissing their daughter's head and telling her how proud they were before parting ways.

"You did so good, love," Isa says once everyone is gone, quietly shutting the door and curtains, and turning out a few of the lights. Carefully, she crawls into the small bed, curls into Florence's side, and softly kisses Florence's cheek before grabbing her hand and lightly rubbing her thumb across it. Suddenly, Florence is sobbing. Alone in the room, the chaos of the day finally hits her, and she longs to have the baby she had held so close to her for nearly eight months back in her arms.

"I want her back," Florence breathes out, hot tears trailing down her face and neck. "I didn't even get a good look at her."

Isa doesn't try to reason with Florence, knowing how much it must be hurting her to have such a scary day, and then be separated from the baby she had grown to love more than anything. Logically, Isa knew that the baby needed to be closely monitored, but it didn't make it hurt any less to see Florence in such despair.

"I'm sorry Florence, I'm so sorry. She's going to go get healthy, and you're going to rest and recover, and then tomorrow we'll get to see her." Isa gently guides Florence's head to her chest and holds her as her whole body shakes. Florence cries and cries until she eventually falls asleep.

Isa sighs and leans her head back against the pillow, exhausted from nearly thirty-six hours of being awake. She gently strokes Florence's hair and takes the little polaroid picture from the tray to the side of the bed.

She studies the baby's face. She had on a hat that was too big for her head, the brim of it falling all the way down to her eyebrows, and her high-set cheeks were pink against her pale face. She studies the baby's miniature thumbnail on top of the chubby fist covering her eye. Isa tears up, finally getting a good look at her nose that she had fell in love with months ago on a grainy ultrasound. It hits her that this is her _daughter_ , a tiny person that would call her mum for the rest of her life. Soon, she too finds herself quietly crying her way to sleep.

Just as Isa begins dreaming, random images of South London flying aimlessly around her head, she is jolted awake by the door opening.

"Knock, knock," she hears a familiar voice whisper. She opens her eyes to find Dr. Singh peering in the doorway, a small smile on her face. "Hiya," she quietly draws out, "how is she?"

Isa faintly smiles at Sylvie and quietly sighs. "She's exhausted, and really anxious about the baby not being here."

Dr. Singh nods. "I was in the clinic all day and was so upset I couldn't be here, but I got an update on the little one about an hour ago and I knew I needed to stop by." Slowly, she opens the door a bit more, and Isa sees a little bundle sitting atop a cot.

Isa gasps, and she feels Florence stir awake. "Florence," Isa whispers, gently rubbing her shoulder, "look."

Dr. Singh wheels the cot into the room, the teeny, tiny baby quietly sleeping in a swaddle of blankets. Isa watches as Florence bites her lip and instantly begins softly crying.

"She passed all her bloodwork and breathing tests. She's going to need to stay in the hospital for probably another week just to be monitored and given supplemental nutrition, but she is no longer a critical care case. They were planning on bringing her to you tomorrow morning but I thought a few hours sooner wouldn't hurt anyone," Dr. Singh says with a smile. She carefully lifts the baby into her arms and smiles at her sweet face before transferring her over to Florence.

"There you go," she whispers, slowly removing her arms and stepping back to watch the patient she had begun to love like a daughter have a moment with her precious baby. The baby fusses a bit, her face scrunching up and small whimpers escaping her lips.

"Shh, love, shh," Florence whispers, and instantly, the baby settles down, soothed by the voice she had listened to for months now.

Dr. Singh feels a tear escape her eye as she lightly hugs Florence, and then Isa. "I am so happy for you both. I know today must have been incredibly scary, but you handled it beautifully and she is one of the healthiest little preemies I have ever seen. I'll be back in a few hours to check up, the call button is right over there if you need anything."

Sylvie quietly closes the door, and the three of them are left in the quiet of the room. Florence runs the back of her finger over the baby's cheek, and then gently adjusts her hat before laughing through her tears just a little. "She's so perfect," she says as Isa leans on her shoulder. The baby opens her eyes briefly, squinting at the brightness of the new world she found herself in. Her eyelashes are long and light, and Florence marvels at the fact this beautiful baby was actually _inside_ of her all this time. Her head bobbles as she lets out the smallest of yawns, and then her bright blue eyes squeeze shut. Florence turns to Isa, her eyes full of tears as she listens to the baby's gentle breaths. "Do you want to hold her?"

Florence had been waiting for this moment for months. She wanted Isa to experience the closeness that she had for all this time. She wanted her to finally feel the weight of the little being who she already loved so much. She wanted her to feel all her little movements. She wanted her to finally see and touch and feel the very thing that had brought the two of them back together.

Isa smiles and nods, and Florence shifts her weight on the bed, giving the baby a small kiss on the forehead before carefully settling her into Isa's arms.  
Florence watches as Isa bites her cheek and tears fill her eyes. Isa's entire face scrunches up as she tries her best to hold back the tears. "Hi, love," Isa coos, brushing a thumb across the baby's forehead and the little spot between her faint white-blonde eyebrows. The tears finally start falling, and Isa turns to Florence. "She's so beautiful, Florence. I can't believe you made a human all by yourself."

Florence laughs at Isa, kissing her on the forehead. She watches on as Isa so naturally holds the sweet baby who had given her so much trouble for the better part of the year. She listens to Isa tell the baby about her many aunts and uncles, and how much she had been thinking about her, and how happy she was to finally meet her. Even though Florence is so tired she can barely keep even one eye open, she is grinning as she watches the two most precious people in her life meet for the first time—one of them, the girl she had grown up with, the girl who saved her more times than she can count; the other, a gift sent from whoever was looking out for her above, a gift her body had spent eight months creating.

The baby opens her eyes again, looking up at Isa. "She's so alert," Isa says quietly, studying her round face and big blue eyes. She notices that the baby's eyes slant downwards at the outer edges, much like Florence and Evelyn's. Her nose is small and round, and reminds Isa so much of every baby picture of Flo that she had ever seen.

Florence kisses Isa's cheek before settling into the nook between her neck and shoulder. Isa softly rubs the baby's temple, and she lets out the tiniest of sounds, instantly reducing Florence and Isa to tears.

They sit in silence until the baby slowly closes her eyes and falls asleep again. They both stare at her, the reality of their new life setting in. "Does she have a name?" Isa asks, turning her gaze back to Florence.

Florence nods. "Yeah, yeah she does," she says before kissing Isa's temple, letting her lips linger for a moment before speaking again. "This is Delilah, and Delilah, this is your mum."

Florence doesn't have to explain it; Isa knows that this is for her, that this was about something just the two of them had created from a place of darkness that eventually brought both of them so much joy and freedom through the years. It was an homage to Isa's ability to just make everything _better_.

"Delilah," Isa shakily whispers through tears, and it sounds more beautiful than Florence could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have stared and stared at this chapter for days now—I don't think it will ever quite feel right no matter what I add to it, and I think I've finally made peace with that. This story started out as a weird dream, and it has turned into something that I have so thoroughly enjoyed writing over the last few months. I am so glad that other people were able to enjoy it as well. There will be one more short chapter after this one. I am very open to writing some one-shot requests in this little world, so please leave any ideas down below!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with this crazy concept of a fic, I have appreciated all your encouragement and ideas so very much. My next fic will be titled "Under"—it is pre-lungs era, and I will release the first chapter at the same time I put up the last chapter of this fic.
> 
> My tumblr is alwaysdowntohidewithyou, please feel free to drop me a message or an ask. Thank you for all the love x


	16. Epilogue

_At Home with Florence + the Machine_

AUGUST 21st, 2020

A little over two years ago, Florence Welch was strongly considering naming her latest album _The_ _End_ _of_ _Love_ (“Not like, the _end_ of love, but rather, the end of the idea of it being this unhealthy thing that I was searching for in places and things and people that I wouldn’t find it in,” she clarifies for me).

Now, it seems she is surrounded by the elusive thing.

When we first meet to talk, I am quickly ushered into a kitchen that is somehow simultaneously organized and chaotic, and offered a coffee at a beautiful wooden table punctuated by a little yellow high-chair.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” Florence, who is wearing a practical green sundress with her hair pulled up into a braided crown, tells me. I worry that my wandering eyes are mistaken for judgement rather than admiration. She laughs when I tell her that the place looks like a carefully curated antique shop.

“Yeah. We try to get rid of things, but I've lived here since I was quite young so I have a lot of trinkets and notes and just _stuff_. I think once she starts walking, we are going to have to put a lot of it away so it doesn't break,” she trails off with a smile.

“We” is referring to her longtime keyboardist and songwriting-partner-turned-life-partner Isabella Summers (who is the original namesake of "the Machine"), and their nine-month-old daughter, Lilah.

After a few months on the road, a serious scare during her U.S. tour, and three months of near bedrest, Florence unexpectedly went into labor on October 11th, and gave birth in her South London home. Lilah only weighed just over five pounds, but was otherwise healthy.

“It’s definitely not the way I would have preferred,” Florence laughs with a shake of her head. “There were a lot of frantic calls made, and I thought for sure that it wasn’t actually happening right up until the moment it did.”

“She thought her contractions were just a backache up until five minutes before she was born, just to be clear,” Isabella recalls with a grin. "It turns out they'd been happening the entire night before, but her back had been so bad for months that we just thought it was normal back pain." Baby Lilah is sitting on her lap, perfectly content to play with her fingers—particularly the one wearing a plain, gold band with a single diamond at its center.

Florence Welch and Isabella Summers first met when Isabella was offered a job watching Florence’s younger siblings on Friday nights. The two instantly bonded, and after a few years apart, reconnected in a studio.

“She was in a band that neither of us were particularly fond of, and I had just started really getting into producing. So I told her that we should record a couple of songs together,” Isabella says as Florence nods along.

Those few songs turned into a few gigs, which turned into a few albums, which turned into a few international tours, which turned into worldwide fame for Florence + The Machine.

Somewhere along the way, the pair realized that their bond went beyond music.

I ask them when they first realized they had feelings for each other, and they share a glance that tells me that information is theirs and theirs only to know.

“We, you know, worked very closely together for many years, and I guess after a lot of failed relationships we just kind of realized that we were the only steady thing in each other’s lives, and if we hadn’t already gotten sick of one another, why not just make the jump?” Florence says plainly, looking to Isabella for confirmation.

Isabella nods as Lilah babbles on her lap. “I think Flo and I have this innate trust with each other, like, we’ve truly seen each other at our worst and at our best, and it’s hard to find that kind of connection with anyone. So this was only natural,” she adds.

As we sit and chat, Florence recalls proposing to Isabella on a plane. They were on their way to the US to visit her mother's family, and Lilah began wailing on the eight-hour flight.

“Nothing was stopping her. She was just like—” Florence flails her arms and scrunches up her face in a faux tantrum. “And I handed her to Isa because she was crying, and I was crying, and Isa got out her headphones and put them over her head; it was ridiculous looking. But she stopped crying, and she looked so soothed, and Isa was so calm about the whole thing.” Florence laughs and her eyes wander up to the ceiling. “So I just asked if she would marry me. We had already known that we were planning to get married this winter, but we never had a proper proposal so I thought that would be a good time."

So what was the magical song that calmed Lilah down?

“Oh, it was Dog Days,” Isa says, referring to one of the first songs the two ever wrote together.

“No it wasn’t,” Florence says incredulously with a toothy smile. “Was it?”

Isabella nods and Lilah lets out a little babble as if to help confirm it is true.

Delilah Hope Leontine Welch was born nearly a month early on the upper floor of her mother's Victorian home in South London. She is a lanky baby with curly tufts of blonde hair and expressive bluish-green eyes. Florence pulls out a photo of herself when she was six months old and the resemblance is uncanny. "My blonde hair fell out when I was about two and then it became dark, and my eyes gradually went green as I grew up," she tells me. "My mother and father both keep telling me that she is like an identical twin to me, so we'll see if that happens to her too."

I ask how her names were decided on.

"I think I kind of had internally decided on Delilah a long time ago. Isa and I wrote a song by the same name, and that song was about just exorcising the things that hurt me and was inspired by the story of Sampson and Delilah. But this song kind of freed me in a sense; like, I run around any time I sing it live and it is just the most incredible feeling of being free and totally in control. Leontine is a family name that my parents gave me and I really wanted to keep it going." Florence pauses, looking at her daughter with what seems like a deep sense of admiration and wonder. "Hope was a name that I gave her, because at the time I was writing my last album, I did not feel hope at all. With my personal life, with politics in England, with anything, really. I wanted to name the album 'The End of Love' but was told that it was just too dark. I had written this poem, and the line 'High as Hope' just kept coming back to me and I couldn't for the life of me understand why. So I went with it.

"Then when I got pregnant, I think it finally came full circle. I've gotten into a lot of really questionable things throughout my life, mostly as attempts to kind of escape from whatever was bothering me at any given moment, but all those things did was make me sick and make me hurt the people I love. And I think when I gave up alcohol and drugs, it really did make me question if I would ever really feel hopeful again. I had depression and pretty bad anxiety, and not having substances to turn to made it hard. So when I found out I was pregnant, I felt, for the first time in a long time, actually hopeful about something. It was like I finally had a reason to mend all the things I had broken and actually start taking care of myself again, and I was just looking forward to starting a new chapter and drawing a line in the sand. I guess it finally clicked that this feeling made me feel higher than any substance ever did. So, the name Hope is really important to me because I want her to know one day when she's older that she really did save my life. It was like hope was just around the corner when I was least expecting it."

—

The next time I meet up with Florence and Isabella, it is in a small studio space in Peckham that Florence recorded most of the demos of _High as Hope_ in. I sit next to Isabella as Florence sings in the glass room in front of us. Isabella meticulously adjusts sliders before telling Florence to sing a verse just one more time.

Neither of them can tell me what exactly they're recording or when (or even if) we can expect it to be released, but from what I hear, the duo have come a long way from their songs about the dead and drowning.

"We used to record in a glorified shed," Florence laughs as she exits the recording booth. "We've really moved up in the world."

Florence + the Machine's first album, _Lungs_ , was a mixture of singer-songwriting guitar tunes that Florence had written as a teenager and songs that Florence and Isabella had collaborated on very early on. The result was an album that chronicled the evolution of Florence's musical sound.

Isabella tells me that _Lungs_ was one of her first experiences working with a female singer, and one of her favorite albums to produce. "I really liked _Lungs_ , because we didn't give much of a fuck of if it actually sounded like music, which is how we ended up with songs like 'Dog Days'. It was just random lyrics that didn't make sense and us beating the shit out of a wall mixed with a pretty harp."

 _Ceremonials_ was next, and was full of intense songs that sounded like they were backed by a full orchestra.

"Isa used this keyboard, and we had dedicated this keyboard to 'expensive sounding hits that Simon Cowell would approve of.' It was kind of shitty, but we took it everywhere and made most of the demos on the road while we were touring. We ended up with these songs that we would never be able to perform live because we would need a 70 piece in order to play them properly. I will say though, that keyboard saved us a lot of money," Florence tells me.

Isabella laughs in agreement.

 _How Big How Blue How Beautiful_ , it turns out, started out as a concept album about a witch going under trial in L.A. that the two of them had started working on during the _Ceremonials_ tour. A few of the songs, including the album's namesake 'How Big' along with 'Delilah', 'Third Eye', 'Make Up Your Mind', and 'Which Witch' made it to the final cut, but the rest were largely a result of Florence's collaboration with producer Markus Dravs.

"I think that album had started out by us projecting this awful relationship I was in on this crazy story about a witch in L.A., which we later realized was not at all helpful for me getting over this relationship or making quality music. Entertaining perhaps, but I think most people would have thought I had really started losing it."  
I ask if it was at that point that their collaboration started to drift apart.

Isabella carefully contemplates the question. "I think at that point, I was starting to get a bit out of my comfort zone. I do hip-hop, that's my love and these songs started popping up that needed proper arrangements and production. I was really happy to sit back and watch that album come together, it is one of my absolute favorites. It is just a stunning piece of work."

Florence laughs, and Isabella shakes her head. "She cannot ever just accept a compliment without laughing it off."

Perhaps that is why Florence can hardly stand to make eye-contact with me when I tell her what a beautiful album _High as Hope_ is.

It is an album full of personal heartbreak and tragedy, a far departure from the band's earlier discography. When I first listened to it, I had to stop at some points in order to catch my breath. It is painful to listen to, but Florence manages to make it beautiful and magical all the same.

"That album was such a balm to me at that point in my life. I have all these things that I refuse to talk about—some that my family even refuse to talk about—and it was completely terrifying to put it all down on paper. I had to step away from working with the people I know because if I'm being honest, I had no idea how to explain to them all these awful things that I wanted to put in songs. I first recorded with Brett [Shaw] here and then went out to L.A. and New York to do mixing and mastering with Emile Haynie. Those were probably some of the worst months of my life, but the music was such a grounding thing to have."

I ask Isabella her thoughts on the album.

"Obviously, Flo had a lot to work through with those songs, and we've definitely had discussions over the past two years about how good it was for both of us to take a step back for a while. Working with the same people can become really restraining, and I could not be more proud of that album. It was pretty upsetting to listen to the first time through if I'm being honest, but it is just so incredibly beautiful and I'm so glad I got to be a part of performing it."

Florence grabs Isabella's hand and kisses it so quickly I nearly miss it. The two could not look happier just to be in the presence of each other.

"So what's next?" I'm compelled to ask.

Florence quickly turns to Isa, indicating to me that there is something big coming. Isa sighs with a smile. "So, I _may or may not_ have been in the studio producing an album for an artist who _may or may not_ be named Beyoncé," she says meekly.

Florence laughs with a proud smile on her face. "She's never going to want to work with me again."

Isa laughs and shakes her head. "That's a lie! The two of us _might_ also be working on something that _might_ come out early next year."

"I hope you're allowed to say that," Florence says with a grin before anxiously shooting off a text to their manager to make sure that the big news is indeed okay to publish.

Isa continues. "So that's all happening, and once that's wrapped up we have the wedding right before Christmas, which will be nice."

As Florence begins telling me about the planned aesthetic of the wedding day, her younger sister Grace walks in with Lilah and her own daughter, an almost-four-year-old named Bonnie. Florence greets them with an enthusiastic "hi!" and before I know it, the wedding is long forgot about as Florence dances with Lilah in her arms and Isa shows Bonnie how to adjust the volume of the songs playing through the speakers with a little knob. Grace stands with me in the corner, and the two of us watch the scene unfold.

At some point, Bonnie makes a special request for the "Dog Song," which Isa happily fulfills, playing it through the speakers of the space.

For a song that Isabella had just told me was composed of lyrics that "make no sense," they make enough sense to me as I watch Florence sway and bounce with Lilah and Isa spin around with Bonnie.

Happiness hit them, and it sure seems that there is no turning back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has come to an end. Thank you all so much for reading, it really meant the world to me to read your sweet comments and messages over the last few months. I already have had a few suggestions for short little one-shots in this universe, and would be happy to take more if anyone wants some domestic Florabella lol.
> 
> I have also posted the first chapter of my new fic "Under", and would love if you all continued to read my writing.
> 
> Once again my tumblr is alwaysdowntohidewithyou, and I'm always happy to have some new friends to talk to through this hiatus! x


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